Summary: . He wouldn't be able to tell her that he noticed everything about her – except the fact that she noticed him the same way he noticed her. Annoying paradox isn't it?
Pairings: Ron/Hermione - I just love those two!
A/N: Hi! thanks for clicking my story! Hope you enjoy it. I am not entirely sure this story makes sense, so for that I apologize. Anyway it's 2:36 am and I am too lazy to proof read this, so if there are any mistakes please kindly point them out and I'll fix them :) I'm not sure if this is a one-shot or not, maybe I'll add something, but I promise nothing.
Mind Over Matter
Her name is Hermione Granger and she is known as an insufferable know-it-all. She is constantly being sent glares and is often on the mouths of others, especially those who are barely scraping by in their classes, O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s – yes, even though she hasn't taken her NEWTs yet, people already know she is going to do incredible in them.
Don't feel sorry for her though, she has accepted this fact and in a way used it to her advantage. How, you ask. Well when it comes to dealing with annoying people she can use her ever expanding knowledge and wit to get them off her back. Normally having a brain that over process things is a good thing, particularly when one is combating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and everyone associated with him, but sometimes an over processing brain is just that, an over processing brain.
It's a computer that spats out facts that you just don't want to hear. It's a source of conflict within you. Sometimes you want to do something just for the fun of it, but your brain kicks in telling you many of the unlimited amounts of reasons it came up with to prevent you from doing it, whatever it is.
The most recent brain blocked idea she came up with was letting the truth run free. She thought about telling him how she felt. How her heart fluttered every time he said her name, how her heart skipped a beat when their skins grazed. She contemplated telling him how she lost her appetite when she thought about him, when she thought about his hair, his freckles, and his smile, in other words his everything[s].
Hermione Granger mulled the idea over and over and over. Her mind was duelling with her heart, with her emotions and well with itself. Honestly the constant fight between rationality and what she thought was rationality was exhausting. One minute she was clear of what she had to do, what she wanted to do – run over to him, not walk, run and tell him everything, hug him, kiss him, apologize for everything and nothing at the same time – the next minute she was back where she started; like an eleven year old with no friends. She felt stranded in an ocean, alone yet surrounded. Her confusion was evident throughout her face.
'Are you feeling well?' her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice.
'Why wouldn't I be?' she couldn't tell but his heart also fluttered at the sound of her voice. He let out a smile.
'You know that habit of yours has gotten particularly bad' he said while smiling to her.
She looked surprised. 'Habit? What habit, Ronald?'
He had never told anyone this but he loved when she said his name; whether she was mad or not, the sound of his name escaping her lips was fascinating.
'There you go again, my love' he suppressed the last part 'you answer questions with questions, not always of course, but you do it ever so often'
'I do not' her voice sounded more worried than annoyed.
'Yes you do. I find it [cute] quite intriguing, actually. It's like you are trying to hide something...' his questioning eyes explored her face. She felt a slight blush on her cheeks.
'I'm n-' she caught herself; 'I am not hiding anything, Ronald [except the fact that I like you, a lot; except the fact that I might even love you, except the fact that in this very moment I want to snog the life out of you, Ronald]' She loved the way his name rolled off her tongue; Ron, Ronald even Ronald Bilius Weasley, when she was mad, usually in a high pitched voice. His name was usually on her mind, it was usually the last unheard part of every sentence she spoke.
'Of course you are not' he said hoping she didn't wonder how he noticed her habit. He wouldn't know what to answer if she asked him. He wouldn't be able to tell her that he noticed everything about her – except the fact that she noticed him the same way he noticed her. Annoying paradox isn't it? – he wanted to have the courage to tell her, better not, yell it, scream it, do something so it gets stuck in her head: I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, sixth son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, absolutely positively and utterly love you Hermione Jean Granger! I can't wait for the day you might say it back, and if such a day where to come I'd be the happiest and luckiest git out there!
Silence fell upon them. He wouldn't tell her. She wouldn't tell him. The unspoken words lingered around them.
She was about to speak, but decided against it. Maybe not knowing is better. What if she didn't like his answer? What if when she asked how he noticed her habit his answer would be 'because it's bloody annoying' or something on that line.
Nothing. Nothing was said for the longest time. He studied her, she studied him. Despite the fact that silence that silence between Ron and Hermione was strange, seeing as the usually bicker for the smallest and most insignificant reasons, it was not uncomfortable. Strange? Maybe. Uncomfortable? Most definitely not.
'Ron, Hermione can you come here?' a familiar voice broke the silence
They both got up slightly dazed. To each of them the other's presence was intoxicating, in the best way possible.