Hermione sat opposite Ron, her hand in his. For a moment their sweaty palms felt awkward clasped around each other but Hermione learnt to relax. She admitted to herself that it was quite peaceful sitting at the end of Ron’s hospital bed, her fingers tracing over his knuckles and stubby fingers. Harry had taken Ginny and left them alone for the first time since they fought, and to tell the truth, Hermione didn’t quite know what to do.
Hermione felt a lump forming in her throat, she was glad that Ron was alive but she was scared that she almost lost him, scared that she would had never had the chance to tell him how she truly felt, or how she thought she felt.
See with her and Ron, it had been years and Hermione and gone through denial, fighting her feelings, to accepting the fact that she might even like Ron, to maybe thinking she could love him.
And that scared her more than anything.
It scared her that she could possibly love someone more than she could imagine, not only that but her someone could be her best friend, which makes things a hell of a lot more harder.
She didn't need things to be hard right now, not now that things were building up to the Battle that they'd waited six years to happen. She was afraid that her feelings would take over, that she wouldn't be able to control them, her feelings had slipped too much this year.
Could she accept her feelings and tell Ron? Loose him in the Battle and never have the life with him she'd dreamed of? Or could she repress her feelings? Loose him in the Battle and have him never knowing how she felt?
Ron looked so peaceful laying there, his bright orange hair sticking up on all ends, contrasting with his pale skin. She let her long elegant fingers brush over his hair, pushing it back away from his forehead. Slowly she bent down and pressed her lips to his head.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear.
Moments past and Hermione was sure he was still asleep until his head lolled.
“For what?” His voice croaked, his eyes still sleepily shut.
Hermione stopped breathing for a moment, wondering if it had just been her imagination.
“I know we fight,” she said, her hand cradling his face, “But I’m sorry that we do,”
“It’s alright,” Ron gulped, “Makes life more interesting I suppose,” he slowly opened his eyes and smiled at her.
She laughed, that was a typical Ron answer, “Are you okay?” she asked him, concerned.
“Yeah,” He took her hand which was still cradling her face and kissed it, “Thank you,” he whispered, letting their entwined hands rest on his chest.
“For what?” Hermione giggled.
“For being here… jinxing the trails… getting me out of that Lavender mess,” he chuckled, “For being… you,” he muttered shyly and shrugged.
Hermione smiled and proceeded to stroke his hair again, “Get some sleep,” she breathed, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here,” she reassured him as his eyelids grew heavy.
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