Incredibly Stupid Blind Boys
She was unaware of
the carefree chatter around her as she made her way across the Gryffindor
common room. She eyed Harry nervously, and watched as he scribbled away at his
Potions essay. She reached behind her and placed her own sweaty palms into
Ron’s. Ron squeezed her hand; the encouraging gesture calmed her nerves as they
made their way to their best friend.
Hermione attempted, though the word came out as an indistinguishable grunt.
you,” Harry said absentmindedly without looking up.
let out a cough that closely resembled a stifled laugh, but after a well-known
glare from Hermione, he spoke to Harry.
mate,” he said. “Hermione and I…erm…we’ve been meaning to…uh…tell you something
for quite a while.” The words spilled out hurriedly, as if Ron wanted the
conversation to be over.
Harry said, finally looking up from his parchment, “How long is ‘quite a
Hermione started, “it all began last year, in Grimmauld Place…”
* * *
paced his room at 12 Grimmauld Place, attempting to ignore Pig’s ceaseless
hooting. The owl was perched merrily atop his head.
feathery git,” he muttered.
anger, however, had not surfaced because of Pigwidgeon’s new attachment to his hair.
He had been moping around his room for hours, remembering the Yule Ball, and
consequently, the day he finally opened
his eyes and saw Hermione for what she was: a girl. But not just any girl. She
was a very pretty girl with lovely eyes and a charming smile and exquisite
bushy hair that fell around her glowing face when she was working. She wasn't
just the girl Ron had known for four years. She was more than that now. She was
the girl Ron fell in love with. But Viktor Krum seemed to realize it before him
and not only stole her heart, but also stole her away from Ron for the summer
as she went to Bulgaria on his invitation.
bloody Krum,” Ron muttered. Pig hooted happily.
could hardly expect to ever match up to an internationally famous Quidditch
player. He was just Ron Weasley. Just Ron, who was cursed to be the tallest and
lankiest son in the family, who stood out from a crowd only by his trademark
Weasley red hair and known by many as
"Harry Potter's best friend". He was just an average guy who had
never accomplished anything someone else hadn't already done. What did
he have to give her, when she deserved so much?
He decided not to dwell on the Viktor Krum
incident, and instead reflected on their farewells at Kings Cross. That wasn't
much better. He was, of course, sad to say goodbye to Harry, but the sorrow
disappeared when Hermione gave Harry a kiss. Sure, it was on the cheek, but all
the same...what did it mean? Why hadn’t she kissed Ron too, if it was meant to
be a friendly farewell gesture? Did she fancy Harry as well? He could
understand Hermione liking a guy like Krum, but Harry?
groaned to himself, running his fingers through his flaming red hair, causing
Pig to tumble to the floor. There was no way he could compete with Viktor Krum
and the famous Harry Potter.
Damn them. He stopped pacing and stood in shock. Cursing his best friend? What was
this girl doing to him? Ron flung himself on the bed, his mind racked
with guilt for thinking that way about Harry, and drifted off to sleep.
than an hour later, he was awakened by the incessant growl of his stomach.
Cursing his enormous appetite, he stumbled out of bed and made his way to the
kitchen of the Black house, making sure to tip toe quietly past the portrait of
he approached the kitchen he heard an oddly familiar muttering inside. He
paused, his hand grasping the doorknob and his ear pressed against the wood.
Praying it didn’t creak, he pushed it open just enough to peek into the
felt his heart leap as his eyes settled on the back of a girl with bushy brown
curls, mumbling to herself, gripping a glass of water that was quite full. He
strained his ears and managed to catch fragments of her one-sided conversation.
catch on…. incredibly stupid…. blind boys…”
Incredibly stupid? Blind boys? What
in the name of Merlin was she on about? Without thinking, he swung the door
open, and Hermione Granger turned quickly in her chair, letting out an audible
squeak of surprise.
“Ron!” she squealed, jumping up from
her chair and hurrying to greet him. He immediately enveloped her into a huge
hug, trying, and failing, not to blush.
“Hermione, what are you doing here?”
he asked, “I thought you were in Bulgaria with Vic…”
“Vicky, right?” Hermione said
suddenly, shoving him away. The warm expression of faded quickly to a resentful
glare. She picked up a piece of parchment from the table and shoved it in front
of his face. Ron, recognizing his own handwriting, gulped and shifted his eyes
to the ground. Hermione cleared her throat and read it aloud:
suppose you’re going to Bulgaria to visit Vicky. How can you do this to Harry?
For all you know, Vicky is a crazy nutter working for You-Know-Who, out to get
Harry. He is the enemy, Hermione! Think about that before you run off with that
“How dare you?” Hermione
hissed, “After an entire year of drooling over Fleur Delacour! Honestly! Has it
possibly slipped your mind that you asked her to the ball last year? What makes
you think SHE’S not evil?”
who wanted Viktor’s autograph, Ron? I cannot believe you can accuse him of dark
magic…” Hermione ranted on, ignoring Ron’s futile interruptions.
Ron seized his chance when Hermione
paused to breathe. "Hermione, no, listen to me. It's not that, it's
just...well… I'm just really worried, that's all, and I don't think you should
have gone to Bulgaria when You-Know-Who is back... who knows exactly where he
is right now and what he’s plotting. I just…think it’s safer for all of us to
be kind of close to each other.”
Hermione’s expression immediately
softened. She looked down at her shoes, emitting a small sniff. When she looked
back up, her eyes were brimmed with tears. She placed her head on Ron’s chest
before sobbing uncontrollably. Ron cursed under his breath.
“No, no, don’t cry. Please don’t
cry. I’m sorry. I was wrong, okay? You were right, I’m just a brainless git.”
“Ron, it’s n-not you,” Hermione
choked in between sobs, “I’m j-just so worried about m-my parents…it’d be m-my
fault if anything ever h-happened to them!”
Ron stared at Hermione in shock. That was the last thing he
expected her to say.
“Your parents are going to be fine,”
Ron said, placing his arms around her in what he hoped was a comforting way.
“And even if You-Know-Who did target them, it wouldn’t be your fault. He’s
the bad guy here, Hermione, remember that.” He paused, thinking hard, “How
about this? I could ask my dad if he can get extra protection for your house.
Something like the Fidelius charm, so your parents would be safe.”
Hermione didn’t look up, but nodded
against Ron’s shirt as her sobs subsided. When she finally pulled away, Ron’s
shirt was wet from tears.
“You okay?” Ron asked, genuinely
“Yes, I’m fine.” She sniffed as she looked
up and met his eyes. “Thank you, Ron.” He nodded, then sat down on top of the
“So…what ARE you doing here?” he
“I got an urgent message from
Dumbledore telling me to come. I guess he figured this was the safest place for
us to go, and since we’re so close to Harry…” Hermione’s voice trailed off. “I
had to cancel my plans to visit—“
“Oh I get it,” Ron said, jumping off
the table, unable to control himself, “I bet Vicky wasn’t too pleased, was he,
when you couldn’t go to Bulgaria?”
Hermione’s eyes widened as she
stared at Ron in disbelief, and for a moment she looked quite dangerous. “I
never said that, Ron.”
“You still fancy him, don’t you?”
His brain was telling him to stop, but he continued to pace the kitchen,
ranting at Hermione.
“Ron…” Hermione tried to say, but
Ron cut her off.
“You bloody well fancy him! He
doesn’t know you like I do, Hermione! For Merlin’s sake, he can’t even
pronounce your name! He has no idea how smart you are, no idea how daring and
rebellious you can be. He wasn’t there when you slapped Malfoy, he never saw
you steal from the Potions master…he doesn’t know you, Hermione. You’re
so real, and no one knows that better than I do.”
“Ron…” Hermione started again, “I
never said I was going to Bulgaria. I had no intention of going there. I had to
cancel my trip to Italy.”
Ron stared at her in silent shock.
“Oh,” he mumbled, turning away so Hermione couldn’t see his face, which was now
burning a fierce shade of magenta.
“What…what were you talking about,
Ron?” she asked, her voice quivering.
He closed his eyes in silence,
attempting to summon the right words to say. “Oh, bloody hell.”
Hermione stared at him, for once
willing to ignore his language. “Yes?” she pressed gently.
Ron heaved a great sigh. It’s now
"What I mean
is...erm...you're...bloody hell!" he muttered in frustration. He
took a deep breath and began again. "What I mean is you're
really...erm...nice, Hermione. Yeah, nice. And... and you care about
people." His eyes shifted to a few inches above her head. He wrung his
hands, avoiding her gaze. "And you're… erm..." Ron gave a loud cough
that distinctly sounded like the word 'pretty'.
“Ron…what are you trying to say?”
Hermione asked softly.
"What I'm trying to say
is…" Ron forced his eyes downward and, with much effort, locked them with
Hermione's deep, brown eyes. "Erm...I..." Good job, Weasley,
he thought to himself. One word down, two to go. "L...lo...
Hermione stared at him in
astonishment, amazed that she was finally hearing the words she had craved for
over a year. “What?” Hermione whispered.
“I…I love you.” Ron said, with much
“Oh, Ron!” Hermione choked, flinging
her arms around him in a warm embrace. Ron hugged her back, enjoying the feel
of her hair against his cheek.
“Have anything else to say?”
Hermione asked, her voice muffled against Ron’s shirt.
“Erm…yeah,” Ron hesitated.
“If…um…you, I mean, me…. erm…” Hermione looked into his eyes, and he felt the
familiar burst of confidence she always gave him. “If I don’t kiss you this
minute, I’m going to go crazy.”
Hermione’s eyes widened at his
audacity. She tilted her head slightly. The space between them closed as Ron’s
mouth met hers. Time seemed to stop as a tingling sensation ran through her
entire body, from her lips to her toes. She had waited for this moment for so
long, and now that it was finally here she could hardly breathe through the
exhilaration. She couldn’t believe Ron had felt the same way she had, all these
Hermione pulled away and gazed at
Ron. “I love you, too,” she whispered.
Ron smirked. “Yeah, well, just
remember who said it first.”
Hermione opened her mouth to argue,
but never got the chance, as Ron's lips were on hers once more. She pulled away
fairly quickly, however, her expression filled with worry.
“Harry!” she exclaimed.
“Harry?” Ron asked, befuddled. “You
were thinking about Harry while we were--“
“No, you idiot, I mean, what are we
going to tell Harry?”
“Oh, right, Harry.” Ron said with
“Oh, Ron, Harry’s got so much to
worry about already, I don’t want to have to add this to it…You-Know-Who is
back and this will be just one more thing that’s changing for him…What if he
thinks we’ll ignore him, Ron? What if he thinks things won’t be the same with
the three of us? What if--?”
“Okay, okay, I get it Hermione. We
won’t tell Harry.” Ron frowned. “He’s going to have to know sometime though…and
I have a feeling he won’t be happy about us hiding this from him.”
Hermione placed her head on Ron’s
warm chest again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We’ll worry about that
when the time comes.”
Hermione coughed nervously and
chanced a glance at Harry, trying to read his expression. Harry stared for a
moment at the two of them, looking like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Oh,”
he finally said, and continued to write his Potions essay.
“’OH’?” Hermione asked, almost
disappointed by his subdued reaction, “Harry…you’re not upset? We’ve kept this
from you for over a year…I mean…I’m glad you’re not angry with us, but
“See Hermione? Told you not to worry
about it,” Ron said, looking quite relieved. “I think I’ll go for a game of
chess.” He tried walking away, but Hermione had his arm in a death grip.
“Relax, Hermione.” Harry laughed. “I
was mad at first, but I understand why you didn’t tell me.”
Hermione interrupted. “Harry…what do
you mean ‘at first’?”
Harry doubled over in a fit of
silent laughter that had been bursting to escape. “I already…know about…you and
Ron!” he exclaimed in between chuckles.
“WHAT?” Hermione yelled. “You
already KNEW? How long have you known? You knew, and you made me embarrass
myself and tell you this entire…how long have you known, you prat?”
“Since the first day of term.” Harry
said with a smirk, “I saw you snogging in the train compartment when I was
coming back from the food trolley. I was really upset at first, so I went to
talk it over with Ginny…”
“GINNY knows?” Hermione shrieked.
“Well, yeah. She’s the only one I’ve
told though,” Harry said calmly. “Anyway, Ginny told me that you two were
probably just concerned about me having too much on my mind already.”
Hermione stared at Harry in
disbelief. Ron was eyeing the chess set with interest, completely unperturbed
by Hermione’s breakdown.
“Harry…why didn’t you tell?”
“It was funny.” Harry shrugged.
“Funny?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Well, yeah,” Harry said. “Watching
you two give each other ‘special glances’ across the room…it was classic.”
“Hey, Harry,” said Ron. “Want to
take a break? Up for a game of chess?”
“Yeah, sure,” Harry said, putting
down his quill. The two boys set off for the chess set.
followed them across the common room to watch their game. “Incredibly