Ron/Hermione Romance fic. Enjoy. Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter
They watch each other across the room, both determined to be mad
Such a showoff, he thinks, why does she have to act like she knows everything? He feels his friend elbow him, point at her. When he looks, all he sees is the back of her head. 'She was looking here', his friend says. He doesn't believe it. Why does he always have to act like such an idiot? She thinks, blinking back tears, He says one thing, than turns and does something completely different! What's with him? But despite her anger, she looks up at him, looking away only when someone caught her.
Her fast talking swept him away. His easy going nature pulled her to a halt. They were two halves of a whole. But they were only eleven, and didn't (maybe couldn't) see. Why were they so blind?
She was smart and knew it all, he depended on her to get by. They fought so often, no one believed they were friends. They always walked away from each other angry, and no one could tell how they really felt. Even they couldn't. Why couldn't they say how they felt?
He was stubborn, she was short tempered. He had a huge family, she lived with her parents. He couldn't stand the fact that she was so brainy, thought it was annoying. So why, why, why was he stealing his friend's Invisibility Cloak and sneaking down to the Hospital Wing to watch her solitary figure?
He blew everything off to the last second, and then went to her in hopes she could make it all better. He was, sad to say, a mediocre student, but he got high marks in personality. Not that it was enough to get by in life. So why, why, why did she cry for hours when she saw him snogging another girl?
His world tumbled down when he saw her, laying, still as a stone. He wanted to cry. Why? She was a friend, that was why. But their other friend wasn't crying, why should he? He held the tears in, waiting until the night to cry into his pillow. If this was what it was like to be twelve, he never wanted to turn thirteen.
She looks up from her book again, glaring at him. He is so oblivious, chatting it up with someone else, obviously not caring that she is mad. If he doesn't care she was mad, why should she care if he's mad? She doesn't. Or that's what she tells herself.
His accusations stung. It stung worse that he was so mad at her though. She put up an 'I don't care' shield, buried herself in her work, stayed out of the common room. Avoided the world, so they wouldn't see her tears. Why did she care so much?
She didn't care. She didn't care he never wanted to see her again, didn't care that he was so upset. All of sudden, the rat didn't matter, her cold attitude did. Why was he forcing himself away from her?
Their gaze meets, and they glare. They were mad. Everyone knew it. And if they didn't, so what? They knew it. Why oh why were they tearing themselves apart?
She has a date. His world crumbled. She has a date. He knew it shouldn't have been surprised. She was smart, pretty, funny, who wouldn't want her? Whoever wanted her couldn't have her though. She was his. So why didn't he pull himself around sooner?
She waited. And waited. He never asked. She laid in bed at night, rehearsing the conversation over and over in her head, what he would say, what she would say. It never happened though. And, when it was too late, he did ask, the conversation didn't go nearly as well as she wanted. And she turned him down. Why did she turn him down?
He wants to get up, to talk to her. To apologize for the stupid fight they had. She wants to stand, walk over to him, say something. So why doesn't she? Why doesn't he?
They have a perfectly fine year together. They fight, they squabble, they live. And still, he doesn't pluck up the courage to say what he really wants to. Why?
She was used to the fights now. They were like breathing. They came naturally. It makes her feel good, to know she can be natural with him. But she has a nagging feeling deep down, something saying she wanted more. Why?
She stands up and leaves. He watches. A voice in his head says follow. He doesn't. Why? She stands out on the porch, cool air blowing over her face. She wants to go back in and find him. She doesn't. Why?
Does she know how he feels? Does he even know how he feels? Of course. He wants her. So why is he sitting here, snogging a clingy girl? Why is he trying to break her heart? Because if he can't have it, no one can. That was why.
She watches across the common room, determined not to scream, to run over and tear her away from him, determined not to throw one of her numerous books at them. So he has a girlfriend. Why should she care? Because she wanted him. That was why
She hears the door open. She knows it is him. She doesn't turn to face him. Why? He stands behind her, staring. He should say something, but doesn't. Why?
He watched her across the common room. As always, she was studying. For the first time in a long time, they hadn't have a fight. They just weren't sitting together. He had her thing, she had hers. Two different worlds. He wanted to make it one. Why didn't he?
She didn't look up from her book, but she knew he was watching her. It was like a sixth sense. She pushed herself further down in the chair, trying to get comfortable. But the only way she could be comfortable was with him. She could have gone over and sat with him. Why didn't she?
He says he cared about her. She says he loved him. He backs away, mortified. It confuses her. She runs away, hurt. He had just said he cares about her. Why did she have to say what she did? He watches her run. Idiot, he scolds himself, Bloody brilliant. Why had he said what he did?
They stand together on the back porch, not saying anything. They hadn't said anything all day. It was close to midnight. Lights flicked off as their friend bids them goodnight and goes upstairs. "Hermione", he says carefully, his eyes downcast. "Ron", she nods, still not turning to face him. Then, at the same time, "I love you". She turns to face him, he looks up at her. They hear an owl hooting in the night. They don't care. All that matters is the other right then.
Just a silly little thing I typed during school. Like? Hate? Review anyway