He thinks he remembers the first time he thought her beautiful.

She had been bloody and dusty and sweaty, her brown eyes shining in shock and fear as she gripped onto Harry's arm to keep him from killing himself. He had been in such pain that he now doesn't know how he managed to concentrate on anything (and afterward, in the hospital wing, he had blamed any abnormal thought processes on the confusion and delusion of the time) – but at that time, watching her with her hair frizz from the action and the sweat and humidity of summer air and watching her small shoulder drip blood onto her dusty robes, he was struck with the magical beauty in her bravery and convictions even in youth.

It had given him courage, and he had stood up on one leg and demanded that he should die with his friend.

He thinks he remembers the first time he thought her as his.

It was fourth year, before the Yule Ball fiasco. He hadn't been speaking with Harry and was snappish at her and everyone else; a tall and lean Ravenclaw in their year had asked her after class for some help. She had bent over his work with the tips of her hair brushing the parchment, and he remembered the stab of annoyance in the pit of his stomach.

A sharp and sarcastic word just may have been spoken to said Ravenclaw – but he was naturally snappish at that time so he was quite sure that her angry and irritated glare and her shoulder in his chest as she brushed past him was an overreaction.

He thinks he remembers the first time he thought her dangerous.

No, it had nothing to do with enchanted rabid canaries (although that had been unpleasant). No; he was with the girl with a lilac name and it was breakfast and she had walked on past to sit with his sister and sent him possibly the most hurt and hurtful and delicately perilous look that he could have imagined on a person.

He didn't know how he appeared, staring back at her (most likely dumbfounded andslashor floored). All he knew was that he felt a pain (at the top of the stomach, or the bottom of his chest) that had nothing to do with the food.

He thinks he remembers the first time he knew that he mustn't lose her.

Harry had gone off with Dumbledore to get the Horcrux and she was crying out of long and deep pain, out of fear for her friend, out of fear for and of the future. He had taken her by the shoulders and forced her to face him, forced her to tell him that everything was going to be fine and forced her to tell him that she knew that he wouldn't let her down like he did in the Department of Mysteries (she had protested at the last bit and wouldn't say it but it was the first bit that counted).

He had been stunned by her beauty once more, with the tear-streaked face and her hair threatening to get wild again, at her bravery and her sheer brilliance and how she was starting to pick herself up again and be the strong and brisk Hermione that Ron had always known. And she was about to protest his hands on her shoulders but the words never came out because they were staring at each other and they were kissing each other and for the tiniest moment he felt secure.

He thinks he remembers the first time he loved her.

fluffy? cheesey? whaddya think? ps: attack of the run-ons! don't worry, i know. :)