Author's Notes: This is my first Harry Potter fanfic and I have to say, I'm having an absolute blast writing this. I know this will get me pelted with stones or what have you, but I really dislike Harry's character, at least the movie's portrayl. I could write a nicely rounded essay to fully back up this stance and I've argued it out with coworkers but I'll leave my soap box for another time. I do, however, absolutely love Ronald Weasley and his relationship with Hermoine, specifically the developments both in their characters and relationship in the Deathly Hallows, Part 1. In fact, from the minute they're in the cafe, I knew I had to write this. So one with the show and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1 – Hesitation is An Artform
It's the blood on her chin that brings the world crashing down around him. He's seen her bleed, bruise, gather scratches and scrapes as they're running through impossible obstacles but not like this. It's the first time he's seen blood mar her beautiful face and all he wants to do is kiss her.
She's good, damned good and she'd taken down those wizards with a speed and grace that he's come to expect from her. His heart swells with pride and he wonders why he hasn't done it yet, why he hasn't kissed her like he's wanted to all these years.
He almost does because she's brilliant in anything she does and she talks him down like it was his plan all along, like he wasn't two seconds away from murder. Just calls his name and he knows he's being ridiculous and she's being herself, always so perfectly balanced.
He reaches out to her, grazes a hand across soft skin, stares into the warmest eyes he's ever seen and he doesn't know why he doesn't do it, why he doesn't kiss her.
He murmurs to her, tells her that she's always been the one good at spells and he wonders if she knows he means that.
That she's always been the best, that she's always been better than him, that she'll always be too good for him. That she's put some sort of spell on him and he'd follow her, God, he'd follow her to the ends of the earth.
His hand leaves her face, leaves behind the warmth and the comfort, leaves behind the softest steel and falls to his side. He's missed it again and he still doesn't know why he hasn't done it, why he hasn't kissed her like he's wanted to all these years.