The Sugar Quill
Author: wm_law (Professors' Bookshelf)  Story: Kiss Me  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

Kiss Me



A/N:             HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers, copyright 2001.  No profit made from this use.  Special thanks to Moey and Tessie!



Kiss Me


            “Oh it’s so nice outside,” Hermione remarked while looking out the window of the Weasley’s living room.  “I’m going out back.  Anyone care to join me?”

            Ginny looked up from the chessboard, upon which she was currently trouncing Harry.  “Nah.  Maybe after Harry’s lost,” she laughed.

            “I could still beat you,” Harry muttered unemotionally, staring fixedly down at the board.

            “It would take a miracle,” Ginny teased, trying to get some response from Harry who simply ignored her.

            “Well, Ron?” Hermione asked, trying to keep the hope and desperation out of her voice.  ‘Say yes, come one, Ron.  Say yes…’

            Glancing up from his Cannon’s Commentary, Ron grimaced, shrugging as he stood up.  “Ok, sure.  Wouldn’t want the gnomes to try and eat you, would we?” he drawled.

            Turning around quickly so he wouldn’t see the wide grin on her face, Hermione started for the kitchen and the back door, knowing he would be right behind her.  She’d been trying to get Ron alone for the last day and a half, albeit unsuccessfully.  He’d been avoiding her, and when he spoke to her, well, she’d been lucky to get more than two words from him.  It was getting really annoying, especially since she really, really wanted to speak with him.  Being home by herself for the last few weeks had given her time to think, mostly about Ron, and she’d decided that they needed to talk, just the two of them, privately and calmly.

            “It’s still damp out here,” Ron complained, kicking at the grass that was still slightly wet from the afternoon shower.  “Hold on,” he ordered, running back into the kitchen, emerging just moments later with an old blanket that he proceeded to spread on the ground for them to sit upon.  “Here.  Now you won’t get all wet.”

            “Thanks,” she whispered, both of them blushing slightly.  She lowered herself to the blanket, leaning back on her arms as she stared up at the sky.  “It’s a beautiful sunset.”

            “Yeah…  I guess so.”

            “It always smells so nice after it rains.  Fresh and clean,” she murmured, inhaling deeply as she did so.  She glanced over at Ron to find him staring at her.  Taking it as a good sign, she turned to face him, pulling her legs in so she was sitting cross-legged.  “Ron…  About Bulgaria...”

            Ron harrumphed, looked away from her and stared across the garden.   “What about it?”

            “Don’t you want to know what happened?”  Ron grunted in response but said nothing so she continued.  “You aren’t the least bit curious?”

            “Fine…” he practically snarled, his head snapping back to look at her.  “What happened?”


            “Nothing?” he repeated incredulously.  “Nothing?”

            “Nothing.  I didn’t….”

            Ron interrupted her.  “He’s too old for you, Mione!  And I don’t care that he’s rich or famous or a wicked Quidditch player, he’s…” he trailed off, yanking a handful of grass up by the roots.

            “He’s what?” she prompted, smiling as the tops of his ears turned bright red.

            “He’s not good enough for you!” Ron yelled, throwing the grass back onto the lawn.  “You deserve better than some guy that can’t even pronounce your name correctly!”

            Hermione laughed, making Ron turn and glare at her.  “And I don’t care what Dumbledore says.  You saw that Karkaroff.  You can’t tell me those Durmstrang types are trustworthy.  Bloody hell,” he cursed, ignoring Hermione’s noise of censure, “Lucius Malfoy wanted to send the devil seed there.  What does that tell you about the school?”

            “That they’re better off than we are?” Hermione joked.  “Ron…  I like Viktor.  He’s a nice guy.  But…”

            “But nothing happened?”

            “No, nothing happened.  I didn’t kiss him, Ron,” she stated, watching as Ron let out a breath in what she hoped was relief.  “I didn’t kiss him because I knew that if I did…” she sighed, thinking that it was now or never, “I knew if I did that Viktor would see it as some sort of step.  A step towards a more… a more committed relationship.  And I didn’t want that, Ron.”

            Ron interrupted her, asking hotly, “And why not?”

            “Because it wouldn’t be fair to him.  Despite all rumors to the contrary, I’m not a ‘scarlet woman.’  I won’t lead Viktor on when I know that I can’t give him what he wants.  Not when my heart belongs to another.”

            “What?!” Ron roared, his face turning scarlet.  “Your…what?  Who?!”

            Hermione smiled softly.  “Ron…” she sighed, watching amusedly as he hopped to his feet and started pacing.

            “Who is it?  I’m your best friend, Hermione!  I would have thought you cared enough to tell me about this.  I swear…”


            “Neville?  Dean?  Seamus?” he asked, staring down at her intently.  “Harry?”  He grew pale, “Fred or George?  Percy?”

            Hermione tried desperately to keep from laughing, biting her bottom lip.  “No…  none of them.  Ron…”

            “Not…oh, please, not Malfoy!” he gasped in disgust.

            “Ron, will you sit down?” she demanded, grabbing his hand and pulling him back onto the blanket.  “It’s no one you’ve named.”

            “I’ve named?  But…but…who have you named?” he spluttered in confusion.


            “I know my own name, woman!  Now, just tell me who…who…who…  Oh,” he stammered, going from bright red to pure white in just seconds.

            “You, Ron.  My heart…” she paused, taking a deep breath, “my heart belongs to you.  It probably always has.  I didn’t kiss him because of you.  Nothing at all happened because of you,” she said slowly, moving closer to him as she did so.

            “Mione,” he sighed, raking a shaking hand through his hair.  “I…”

            “I…  Did you ever wonder why we argued so much?  Over the most trivial of things?  Why you got so angry over me going to the ball with Viktor?  Why it bothered you so much that I might go visit him in Bulgaria?” Hermione suggested, hoping he would admit that he felt the same way she did.  “Why Harry found Krum’s arm under your bed?”

            “Hermione…I…oh…” he murmured, swallowing convulsively.  “I…”

            Realizing that they were getting nowhere, Hermione impulsively leaned forward and kissed him, quickly and chastely but on the lips nevertheless.  She sat back, grinning at Ron’s shocked expression.  “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now.”

            “How long?” he choked, eyes wide as he continued to stare at her.

            “Oh…since third year.  Maybe second, but definitely third,” she grinned, glad that he had finally formed a coherent thought.

            “You mean…I sacrificed myself, nearly got myself killed on that chessboard and you didn’t want to kiss me then?” he asked in mock-anger, trying to look put out.

            “Ok, maybe since first year.”

            Ron smiled, nodding at her conclusion, then just as quickly as she had before, leaned in and kissed her.  He pulled back, still smiling as Hermione was now the one who looked a bit shell-shocked.  “I’ve wanted to do that since first year.”

            “Really?” she gasped, lifting a finger to her lips.

            “Not really, you were a bit of a pill.  But it would have been a hell of a way to shut you up,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

            “That’s not very nice,” she grumbled but her eyes were still alight with happiness.

            “Fine, then since second year.  Ginny suggested I kiss you and see if you woke up and, it was scary, I really wanted to try.  Granted, at the time I thought I was just losing my mind, you were my friend.  You were Hermione.”

            “And now?  Is it scary?”

            “No…Shocking but not scary.  I guess I was a bit jealous wasn’t I?” he asked bashfully, lifting her hand in his.

            “A bit?  You ripped off his arm!”

            “Ok…  I was jealous.  But it’s just… It was because…  You’re my Hermione.  I didn’t want to share,” he admitted sheepishly, his fingers entwined with hers.

            “Your Hermione?”

            “Yeah…  I’ve had to share everything else in my life.  I didn’t want to share you,” he whispered emphatically.

            “Ron, you’re so romantic.”

            He laughed in slight embarrassment, “I try.  Mione?”

            “Uh huh.”

            “Can I kiss you again?” he asked shyly, a tinge of pink staining his cheeks.

            “Uh huh,” she answered, leaning slowly towards him.


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