‘In the spur of the
moment’

Read on FFN. 

Read on AO3.

What’s a good way to hint to your crush that you fancy them? Well, snogging them after you both get your O.W.L results might do the trick! Romione AU fanfiction, set at the start of ‘Half-Blood Prince’ at the Burrow. Rated T just to be safe (and for Ron’s occasional bad language).

Hope you like this, everyone! If you enjoy it, please reblog and leave a comment. If you’re reading it on FFN, please favourite and leave a comment. If you’re reading on AO3, please leave kudos and comments. 

---

‘It’s pathetic!’

Hermione inwardly
groaned. She had spoken without thinking again, and insulted Ron. She could see
the look of hurt and embarrassment on Ron’s face as she swept over to the
corner of the room.

It wasn’t Ron’s fault
that he couldn’t help himself in front of Fleur. She was a Veela, after all;
she unintentionally had that effect on every man she met. Ron clearly hated the
way that he responded whenever Fleur was around, and yet Hermione still couldn’t
contain her jealousy and anger. She had complained about Ron having the
emotional range of a teaspoon, but she could hardly hold the moral high ground
in that department.

Until she somehow
started dating Ron (which, as dubious as that prospect seemed to her, Hermione
couldn’t help but hope), she could hardly get angry at him for looking at other
women. They weren’t dating; she was just his friend with a hidden attraction to
him. She had no right to get jealous. And yet, every time it happened, she would
inadvertently end up insulting and belittling Ron. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut? Why was it that the only
times her feelings reached the surface were when she was spitting with rage?

Of course, she had
tried to change things between herself and the boy she…loved? Yes, she supposed she did love him. It couldn’t be passed
off as just teenage hormones or a crush.

She’d been terrified
that she would blow her cover too soon, and possibly get her heart broken in
the process, but she had tried. She
had, over the course of the past year-or-so, been dropping subtle hints about
her feelings. Although none of them had really done the job.

She had casually
mentioned, during a prefect patrol, that she had heard Lavender and Parvati
discussing boys in her dormitory. Of course, she had said, she was offended
that Ron wasn’t mentioned. Ron had looked downcast and said ‘of course I bloody wasn’t; what girl
would fancy me?’. Hermione had spent
the rest of the patrol feeling immensely guilty, and blabbering about their
Charms essay to fill the silence.

She had tried, during
an evening spent playing wizard-chess in the common-room, to flirt with Ron.
She had tried smiling more at him (Ron had avoided eye-contact and kept his
eyes focused on the chess pieces), flicking her hair alluringly behind her ear
(the resulting mess took several embarrassing minutes to rectify), and
complimenting Ron on his chess skills (this proved pointless, as Ron correctly
observed ‘how would you know if you don’t play Wizard Chess?’). She had
eventually given up on trying, and eventually just settled for laughing at
Ron’s jokes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron smiling at her laughing
face, his grin so warm and comforting. But that was surely just the fire next
to them reflecting off his face.  

She had softly moved
her leg against Ron’s under the table as they studied in the library. Ron had
responded by muttering ‘sorry, my legs really are too long to be allowed,
aren’t they,’ and moving his legs in the opposite direction. It must have been Hermione’s imagination,
then, when she briefly saw the tips of Ron’s ears flush and his eyes widen as
her leg brushed against his trouser-leg…

And then: her coup de
gras. In an attempt to support Ron before his first Quidditch match, she’d
kissed him on the cheek. Hermione’s face pinked at the memory. Ron’s skin had
felt smooth and tender on her lips, and her stomach had turned over. It had
been almost in the spur of the moment, but she had managed it. Somehow, her
face hadn’t reddened like a tomato until she was out of Ron’s sight.

And yet, none of her
efforts seemed to have had any effect; she and Ron were still just-friends.
They were stuck at an impasse; she couldn’t move anything forward until she
actually overcame her fears of being rejected, and she could hardly dare to
hope that Ron saw her in the same way. And even if he did (by some wonderfully
impossible possibility), she suspected that Ron’s insecurities and self-doubts
would prevent him from making a move. The poor boy really was his own worst
enemy at times. He honestly thought he was the least of everyone; that the
people around him wouldn’t notice if he was gone, that everyone could do without
him.

But she couldn’t.

Despite how little Ron
thought of himself, Hermione couldn’t imagine a world without Ronald Bilius
Weasley. She loved every inch of him, inside and out. She loved his kindness,
his bravery, his loyalty and his refusal to take the easy way out. She loved
the way he made her feel; that she wasn’t just some bookworm who was only good
for revision notes, that she was funny, witty, kind and beautiful. Ron gave her
a deep, warm feeling whenever she was around him. She loved his gorgeous red
hair, his bright sparkling blue eyes, the way his mouth stretched into a
lopsided grin as he looked at her, and the way his ears turned red whenever he
was embarrassed or flustered. It was all so… Ron.

She didn’t know when
things had changed between them; when she had stopped seeing him as just her
best friend. Maybe she had always felt this way, but she just hadn’t known how
to process it. She had certainly never seen Ron in the same way she saw Harry;
who had always been like a brother to her. But Ron had always felt… different.

So, here she was.
Hopelessly in love with her best friend, a boy who didn’t (and probably never
would) realise how much she yearned for him. A boy so utterly brilliant, and
insufferable, and oblivious, and irritating, and yet so utterly wonderful that it made her heart ache to be with him.

She was stuck. Her type
was, and had always been, Ron Weasley. No-one would ever match up.

And therein was the
problem. Because Ron would never see Hermione in the same way.

Hermione had been so
focused on her thoughts that she didn’t even notice what she was holding; a
telescope, of which a large boxing glove appeared out of.

KAPOW!

The punching telescope
had at least given her something else
to think about that didn’t remind her of her own romantic issues, or the growing
power of Voldemort.

She hadn’t meant to
grab Ron and Harry under the elbows. She heard Harry yelp in pain and struggle
out of her grasp, but Ron remained still. Although most of her attention was on
the approaching owls, Hermione couldn’t help noticing that his ears had
reddened slightly, and (Hermione’s heart seemed to beat quicker) had he moved
slightly closer to her?

Whatever it was, she
didn’t have any time to consider it, because what felt like nano-seconds later,
she was reading her O.W.L results.

Her brain seemed to
judder to a halt as she read the crisply-printed writing.

She hadn’t failed…she had passed everything…she wasn’t going to get expelled…

As if from a distance,
Ginny’s tentative voice reached her.

‘Hermione, how did you
do?’

‘I- not bad,’ she
stammered, her voice cracking slightly.

‘Oh, come off it,’ Ron
said, striding over to her and snatching Hermione’s letter out of her hands.
‘Yep, nine “outstandings” and one “exceeds expectations” in Defence Against the
Dark Arts.’

Hermione looked into
the bright blue eyes of the youngest Weasley boy, and his mouth morphed into
the usual lop-sided grin that always made her stomach flip over.

‘You’re actually
disappointed, aren’t you?’

Harry laughed in the
background, but Hermione’s eyes were still fixed on the redheaded boy in front
of her; smiling down at her from his great height and looking half-exasperated
and half-amused, with so much warmth and tenderness in his expression that he
took her breath away.

Hermione felt her heart
flutter against her chest.

Oh, to hell with subtle hints…

Before she knew what
she was doing, Hermione threw her arms around Ron’s neck and kissed him full on
the mouth. His lips were soft, and she could feel a few short hairs tickling
her on the cheek.

She felt Ron startle,
and stagger slightly as she clung to him. He felt so strong… so safe… so alive…
so Ron Weasley that the feeling of
his torso against hers was sending intense shivers down her spine. And she was
kissing him, and…was he kissing her back?
She couldn’t be sure, but she prayed he was.

Hermione snapped her
eyes open, and let go, stepping away from Ron, who was staring at her in deep
shock, the tips of his ears turning the tell-tale red.

Her face turning a
boiling scarlet, Hermione broke eye-contact with Ron. She looked down at her
feet, and her eyes flicked awkwardly from side-to-side, terrified that she’d
completely lost her sanity.

‘I…I have to clean my
room.’ Ron stammered, turning on his heel and marching out of the room. ‘See
you all later.’

The door closed shut
behind him, and Hermione heard the creak of the steps as he climbed hurriedly
up the staircase to his room.

Hermione’s vision took
in the surprised looks on Harry and Mrs Weasley’s faces, the barely-contained
giggling from Ginny, and the warm smile on Fleur’s lips.

‘Well,’ Harry said,
apparently at a loss for words. ‘That was one way to celebrate getting your
exam results.’

Ginny clapped Hermione
on the back, grinning widely.

‘Well done!’ she
exclaimed, still chuckling. ‘You finally kissed him! You should have seen the
look on his face!’

‘W—what?’ Hermione
stammered, blood ringing in her eyes. ‘What look? Is he upset with me?’

Ginny’s eyes flicked
quickly to Harry.

‘Er,’ Harry said,
rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘I don’t think so. More surprised than
anything.’

‘Surprised?’ Hermione
squealed; her stomach feeling like it had dropped several feet. ‘Did he… not
realise how I feel about him?’

Harry and Ginny exchanged
worried looks.

‘I’m…I’m sure that’s
not it, Hermione,’ Harry said, not sounding like he believed his own words.

Ginny made a wincing
noise.

Hermione covered her
face with her hands. What had she done?

The rest of the day
passed at an agonising-slow pace.

Hermione didn’t see Ron
at all, but Harry did; although (despite her raven-haired friend’s urging)
Hermione didn’t think she had much to hope for.

‘Well, he doesn’t seem…
angry.’ Harry had said, as the two of them peeled potatoes in the Burrow’s
kitchen.  Perhaps sensing the awkwardness
between the two of them, Mrs Weasley had sent Ron out with Ginny to feed the
chickens. ‘I think you just shocked him a little.’

‘He’s been avoiding me
all day, Harry!’ Hermione had exclaimed, blinking fast in an attempt to prevent
the tears that were already threatening to spill from her eyes. ‘He obviously
doesn’t feel the same way. And now… I’ve made him hate me!’

‘Don’t be daft!’ Harry
slammed the potato peeler down on the counter, his voice rising. ‘You really
think Ron would start hating you just because you kissed him? That’s a flimsy
answer, and you know it!’

Hermione felt slightly
taken-aback.

‘Well,’ she snivelled,
wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘How do you explain why he hasn’t made
any effort to talk to me since then?’

‘Knowing my brother,
he’s probably still trying to process what actually happened.’

Ginny had joined them,
leaving her wellies scattered messily near the door.

‘How do you—’

‘I know I can be harsh
on him,’ Ginny explained, earnestly grabbing Hermione by the shoulder. ‘But
Ron’s a good bloke. He’d never do anything to hurt you. He’s probably just
avoiding talking to you until he can understand it all. Since it concerns you,
he probably doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.’

‘What do you mean; “concerning
me”?’ Hermione asked, completely at sea. ‘Why would that affect anything?’

Ginny shared a
long-suffering look with Harry.

‘Remember the last big
argument about romance he had with you?’ Harry said to Hermione, as if he were
explaining to a temperamental child that two plus two equalled four. The irony
was not lost on Hermione. ‘At the Yule Ball?’

‘I’d rather like to
forget it, to be honest.’

‘Well, Ron certainly didn’t forget.’ Ginny
elaborated. ‘He said a lot of things that he regretted, and he’s been trying to
get better ever since.’

‘Didn’t you think there
was a reason why he didn’t rise to you always making sure to write those long
letters to Viktor Krum in front of him?’ Harry asked.

Hermione’s mouth
dropped open. She had never even noticed that Ron had been changing his
behaviour. And for her?

Hermione’s heart gave a
nervous little flutter.

‘Was… was it really
that obvious?’ She asked, her stomach shrivelling with embarrassment and guilt.
‘That I was trying to get a response from him?’

Harry and Ginny both
nodded in unison.

‘Then….’ Hermione
mumbled, brain practically whirring with confusion. ‘…Why didn’t he say
anything?’

‘Well, that would be
precipitated by Ron actually knowing
you fancied him at the time.’ Ginny elaborated. ‘To be fair, you haven’t
exactly been trying to break down the platonic barrier between the two of you,
have you?’

‘What?’ Hermione exclaimed;
feeling stung. ‘I have been trying!’

‘Let me guess,’ Harry
sighed, rolling his eyes. ‘Those “subtle hints” you kept giving him?’

‘I—well, yes!’ Hermione
stuttered, ‘I didn’t want to make things too obvious, just in case he—’

‘Didn’t fancy you?’
Harry finished. ‘You do realise that blokes need strong signals before they try
anything, right? Subtle hints don’t work.’

‘Are you serious?’
Hermione felt her stomach gurgle unpleasantly. ‘All of those hints, and he didn’t
catch on.’

‘Like I said, blokes
need clear signals. Like…er…’

‘Snogging the bloke in
question after you get your exam results?’ Ginny offered, giggling. ‘That
should have done the trick.’

Hermione’s face burned.

‘I didn’t snog him!’

‘Looked like a pretty
full-on snog to me.’ Harry chuckled. ‘I was surprised you didn’t knock him
flat.’

‘Shut up, Harry! I didn’t…
I mean, I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Er, I finished feeding
the chickens. No thanks to you, Ginny.’

Hermione’s eyes swept
towards the door, her heart seeming to beat in her ears.

Ron had just entered
through the door, and was ungainly removing his wellington boots. The tops of
his ears were a delicate red colour, as he stared over at the three standing near
the counter. No; scratch that. He was staring at Hermione.

Outside of Hermione’s
vision, she saw Ginny open her mouth to respond, no doubt with a joke, but
Hermione was paying so little attention that she couldn’t even hear what Ginny
said.

All of Hermione’s
senses were locked on Ron; how the sweat seemed to gleam in the sunshine, how
the smell of his hair seemed to fill her nostrils, how the sound of his voice
seemed to echo through her mind, and how she could almost taste his warm, spicy
scent on her tongue.

As her own brown eyes
met the bright blue of Ron’s, Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. But,
before she could compose herself to say something, Ron’s eyes darted back down
to his feet.

‘I’ve gotta get on with
cleaning the bath.’ He muttered, his chest heaving slightly (or was it
Hermione’s imagination?). ‘See you lot later.’

And with that, he
strode past them, keeping his eyes to the floor; without so much as another
look in Hermione’s direction. A few seconds later, they could hear his large
footsteps as he climbed the staircase.

Hermione put her hands
onto the counter to steady herself; her knees feeling like they could buckle at
any moment. Her stomach seemed to be full of lead, and her heart ached against
her chest.

Ginny and Harry put
comforting hands on her shoulders, but they couldn’t do anything to ease the
escalating fear within her heart.

He hates me… he really hates me….

That night, Hermione
lay awake for hours, her mind unable to rest.

Ron had spent the
entire evening playing wizard chess with Harry, his head bent down low over the
chess board. A few times, he raised his head to look at Hermione, who was sat
nearby reading “Arithmancy: NEWT level studying for swottish students” on the
sofa. However, Hermione couldn’t bear to meet his eyes; her heart aching
beneath her t-shirt, and her eyes blinking quickly to prevent the tears from
developing.

Eventually, she decided
that she had to get some water from the kitchen. She moved quietly, making sure
not to wake Ginny as she left their shared room.

Hermione moved through
the sleeping house. She could hear the soft breathing of people as she made her
way past various bedroom doors.

Eventually, she climbed
off the bottom step of the staircase. Hermione rubbed her eyes blearily as she
entered the kitchen, only to stop dead in her tracks as she registered the
sight before her.

Ron was sat at the
table, his mouth full of the biscuits he was eating off a plate. Crumbs
littered his cheeks, and his hair was sticking up in all directions. Hermione
couldn’t help but notice that he was only wearing a t-shirt and pyjama shorts.

‘I’m… I’m so sorry,’
Hermione mumbled, feeling her face burn. She turned to leave. ‘I didn’t know
you were…I’ll come back later…goodnight—’

‘Wait!’ Ron exclaimed,
somehow managing to talk through the biscuits. ‘Hermione, please don’t go!’

Like she could ever say no to spending time with
Ron, even in this situation…

Hermione sat down on
the seat opposite Ron, not quite managing to look him in the eye. She was
suddenly very aware that her hair probably looked a mess, and that she was only
wearing a thin vest-top and shorts.

Ron swallowed his
mouthful of biscuits, and his eyes lingering for a split second on the witch
sat in front of him. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks, and he blinked
repeatedly.

‘Er,’ Ron started, as
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. He looked a little lost-for-words.
‘Would you like something to eat?’

Hermione shook her
head.

‘Just a drink of water,
please.’

Ron got up, taking a
glass from a cupboard nearby, and filling it at the sink. As he turned his back
to her, Hermione found herself staring at his broad shoulders and the several
inches of visible skin exposed on his neck.

‘Thank you,’ she said,
taking the glass.

‘No problem, what are
friends for, after all?’ Ron said. Then his cheeks flushed, and he looked down
at his feet. ‘Although, I wouldn’t think that most friends do…well, what you
did after we got our results.’

Hermione felt her face
heat up.

‘Ron, I’m… I’m so
sorry!’ she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to tear up slightly. ‘That wasn’t
right of me to do that!’

‘Oh.’

There was a long pause.
Hermione could feel her heart turning to lead, and her stomach seemed to have
dissolved into her legs.

Ron swallowed loudly,
and spoke again.

‘Did you… did you not
mean to kiss me?’

Hermione wiped her
eyes, feeling very confused.

‘Did I not mean to—’

‘I mean…’ Ron
continued, his face turning a deep maroon. ‘I can understand why you’d regret
kissing a prat like me…’

Hermione’s breath
caught in her throat. This couldn’t be
happening, surely?

‘I just wanted you to
know that I…’ Ron swallowed, as if steeling his nerves. ‘…Well, I don’t regret
you doing it.’

Did that mean what Hermione thought it meant? No, it
couldn’t be possible…

‘R—really?’

Ron nodded.

‘It’s one of the
happiest moments of my life.’ He said, earnestly. ‘Please… please don’t be
sorry about it.’

Hermione felt like her
heart had leapt into her mouth. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.
Did Ron really not mind at all? Did he… no, that was impossible.

‘B-but…why?’ Hermione
asked, blood pounding in her ears. ‘Why would you be so happy about that?’

Ron bent down, cupped
her face softly with his hand, and brought his lips to hers.

In an instant,
Hermione’s brain seemed to short-circuit.

All she could think
about was the way Ron’s lips tasted like strawberries, and the softness of his
skin against hers; which keep sending shivers down her spine.

‘Did that explain it?’

Hermione nodded,
feeling strangely weightless. However, a synapse fired in her brain, and a
thought occurred to her.

‘B—but…’ she stammered,
looking into the freckled face that she loved. ‘Why did you avoid me all day?’

Ron’s face creased with
embarrassment, as if he had been caught in wrongdoing.

‘Sorry about that.’ He
said, his eyes crinkling in nervousness. ‘You see… after you kissed me,
whenever I saw you… I wanted to kiss you so much. But everyone—else was always
around… this house is so busy with all the people… I didn’t think you’d want
everyone—else to see that, not after how embarrassed you looked after you
kissed me. I was kind-of hoping to catch you alone, but I never got the chance…
until now that is.’

Hermione’s brain
rattled and her heart seemed once-again to be beating hard in her ears. He had wanted to kiss her that much? And
he’d held off just in case she got embarrassed?

‘I’m… I’m sorry,’ Ron
said, taking Hermione’s hand in his. ‘I was worried you’d start thinking that I
hated you.’

‘Apology accepted.  And you know me too well.’

‘Of course I do. I’ve
been in love with you since I was thirteen.’ Ron said, and Hermione felt like
her heart had risen up into her mouth. ‘And, just for the record, I could never
hate you, Hermione.’

‘The feeling is
mutual.’ Hermione smiled, warm tingles going up and down her spine. ‘And I’ve
loved you since I was thirteen too, Ron.’

Ron grinned, his
gorgeous blue eyes twinkling. He wrapped his eyes round Hermione, and brought
his face closer to hers, making their noses bop against each-other.

‘Bloody hell, ‘Mione.’
—Hermione’s stomach exploded with
butterflies at the nickname— ‘I wish you’d kissed me a lot earlier.’

Hermione smiled again,
her heart beating triumphantly in her ears.

‘Well, better late than
never, I suppose,’ she said, as Ron began to gently kiss her neck, making her
giggle. ‘And it was in the spur of the moment.’

‘Please do that more
often.’ Ron murmured, as his lips gently traced her ear. Hermione felt more
excited shivers going down her spine.

‘Oh, definitely…’
Hermione grinned, as she brought her lips to Ron’s for the second time that
day. But it certainly wouldn’t be the last.