A/N: Nothing is mine, it is all the genius of JK Rowling. I
really needed to write this story, because I always felt that Ron and
Hermione really started to like each other in their second year… I mean, does a
guy go around burping up slugs for just any girl? Didn’t think so. This
is my version of why we saw an ‘almost hug’ in the movie… tee hee. My favorite
scene above all scenes in the Harry Potter movies… anyway… on with the story.
Ron pushed the door open to the
hospital wing and looked around uneasily. The last thing he needed right now
was to get caught. It was bad enough that Harry had dragged him into the middle
of the Forbidden Forest that night to face down something that was three
thousand times the size of his worst fear. All he needed was for Snape to grab
him by the scruff of the neck, carry him to McGonagall, and smirk as he got
Didn’t his mother say ‘one more toe?’ He shuddered
as he remembered the awful Howler.
The room was dark and eerie. Madam Pomfrey was
nowhere in sight. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, he closed the door quietly
and tiptoed over to the bed he knew Hermione was in. Craning his neck to look
around again, he slipped behind the large posters that had been put up to block
her from view.
Ron had come to visit her every day since she had
been petrified, but it still didn’t stop him from gasping when he saw her
hollow, lifeless face. It was not the Hermione he knew. It was not his
His heart pounded like crazy in his chest. His
Hermione? Who am I kidding?
He sat down quietly next to her and stared at her
for a few minutes. All he could think about was how under-appreciated she truly
was. Harry had been grateful for his friends’ help, but Ron was his true best
friend. Hermione… they never knew how much they needed her until she was gone.
Blinking back tears, Ron leaned forward and with a
shaking hand, touched her shoulder. Hidden beneath the robes was her skin. Her
cold, icy skin. He shuddered.
“H-Hermione,” he croaked out hoarsely. He was sure
the entire castle could hear him. He lowered his voice even deeper as he leaned
in to Hermione’s deaf ear. “I… I know you can’t hear me,” he said, rolling his
eyes. He sounded so idiotic. It was like talking to a brick wall.
He sat back, frustrated. Harry wouldn’t have
understood his reasoning for escaping in the middle of the night to talk to
Hermione’s frigid body.
She can’t hear you, Ron. It’s useless.
It wasn’t. It was the only time that Ronald
Weasley was able to work up the courage to talk to Hermione Granger’s face.
Even if she couldn’t hear him.
He picked up his trembling hand and slowly let it
drift from her shoulder to her face. He brushed the brown, frizzy hair away
from her cheek. It too, was as cold as ice. He shivered but felt some kind of
strange joy to be able to see her eyes again.
“H-Hermione,” he said, regaining some confidence
now that he could see her face. Her face. It stayed unnaturally still, as if
etched in stone. Tears teased his eyes as he quickly blinked them away.
“I’m… I’m just… I’m so sorry… about… about
everything,” he said, looking away from her, letting his hand slowly slide back
to his lap. It was now cold and clammy. “I’m so sorry about everything I’ve
said to you…” he wiped at his eyes quickly. Sighing, Ron looked up at the ceiling
in hopes to convince the tears to stay put.
“I mean… I never meant to be so nasty about
things. Sometimes you just seem… I guess you sometimes make me feel like you’re
better than me. That bothers me. You’re insufferable.”
He stopped and remembered himself. Slowly, he
leaned over and suddenly he didn’t care about the volume of his voice. “I can’t
believe that I came down here to apologize and what am I doing? Calling you
names. Good one, Weasley.”
Putting his hands over his face and running them
through his thin red hair, he looked upright again at Hermione. She was still
unblinking and cold.
“Why?” he whispered, looking around. “Why did she
have to be taken now? Why did she have to be Muggle-born? Why was she
petrified? Why is she gone?” he asked the questions to no one in a very
frustrated tone. “Oh, Hermione,” he moaned.
“I came up here tonight… to apologize mostly…” he
frowned, looking at the bed. He wanted to fixate on a spot so that he wouldn’t
be caught under a spell. Even if Hermione was petrified, she still had the
ability to entrance him. “I guess I just… lost myself. You really are
insufferable, Hermione. Sometimes I just lose my temper with you. You are
sometimes just so hard to deal with,” he paused and bit his lip, closing his
eyes tightly together. “But that’s what makes you all the more charming,” he
half grinned, not looking up from his designated spot. “It’s really a challenge
to be friends with you. Sometimes… sometimes…”
Ron jumped as he thought he heard a noise in the
distance. There was nothing after a few seconds of silence. If it was this hard
to talk to a petrified girl, how hard was it going to be when he had to talk to
her for real?
His head pounded and his hair was a mess. “I um…
sometimes wonder… if it’s so challenging to be your friend…” he frowned,
rediscovering his spot. “I wonder what kind of a challenge it would be to be
more than that.”
His face flushed a deep red as he half expected
Hermione to roll over and smack him across the face. When nothing happened and
he had reassured himself that nothing was going to happen, he found his
confidence once again and began to slowly talk.
“Sometimes when you’re sitting there, Hermione,
quiet and studying… I just get the chance to stare at you. I mean… sure you’re
my best friend, but you’re still really p-p-pretty. You have big brown eyes and
the cutest curly hair… it’s always in your face and it’s funny,” he chuckled
lightly to himself. “And sometimes… I just want to hit you, I get so furious.
But that’s not a real feeling… I love fighting with you, as stupid as that
He felt a cold wind run down his back and he
straightened up. He pulled his hand away from Hermione’s robes, which he had
been unconsciously playing with. “I… well… Hermione, um… I wish I could tell
you this to your face, but I don’t even know what it is.”
He stood up quickly, as if someone was going to
walk in and catch him. He could have sworn he heard footsteps. Maybe he was
“Hermione, I just… wanted to tell you that… I am
sorry for being such a prat and that um… well, I guess… I don’t know. I don’t
know what to say, even though I know you can’t hear me. I like you, Hermione.
You’re a great f-friend. We need you. Harry needs you.”
He gulped, clutching the insides of his robes
tightly. “I need you.”
Without another word, he looked around quickly and
bustled out. His heart was pounding, his mind was reeling, and he was on the
But the best thing of all was, he felt like he had
finally removed the large weight on his shoulders. Unfortunately, all he would
be able to think about the next time he saw her blinking and talking… was the
last three words he spoke to her.
I need you.