Just Friends

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Ron stood in front of her in his navy robes and practically commanded her to come and dance with him.

Hermione had never been so turned on.

Surely, with all of Ron's silly grins and joking, she'd been charmed. She'd wanted him. But being turned on was another thing entirely. That day, with Ron's hair combed and his robes framing him handsomely, she was turned on. She wanted nothing more than to jump on him and kiss him all over his face, down his chest, up his sides; all along the length of him, she wanted to kiss him.

But she settled for primly placing her hand in his and standing, following him to the dance floor.

It turned out that Ron could dance quite well, much to her amazement. His hands went gracefully to her, leading her clumsy feet around the floor and through the dance. Viktor had been a polished dancer, but always utterly respectful: never pressing his body against hers, only holding her at arm's length, making sure she wasn't scandalized.

Ron was exactly the opposite. His hand on the small of her back pulled her closer. Her face was close to his neck, smelling him so entirely that she couldn't breathe. His nearness intoxicated her. She placed her face onto his shoulder as a slower song came on. His lean body pressed against hers was almost too much for her to handle. Where she had been happy just to hold his hand, to have his embrace yesterday, she now wanted—needed—his lips against her skin, brushing her intimately. He had created a yearning in her so deep that she could scream in frustration. There was a bubble of poignancy that only his kiss could burst.

As he led her through the moves of that song, she realized that she'd never seen him dancing at the Yule Ball, her only point of reference. She cringed at the thought of that disastrous evening. She'd been charmed by Viktor, his manner kind and unassuming, and though she was not one to swoon, she had been flattered that he had asked her to the Ball. Ron had been less than thrilled. It had been made clear to her that Ron did not wish for her to go with "Vicky", but what she hadn't realized until just a few moments ago, when he asked her abruptly to join him, was that Ron truly had wanted to go with her himself.

How ignorant she'd been of his feelings, or rather how plainly he'd discouraged her from them. It had been entirely his fault that they hadn't united last year. She had put her heart on the line. She had opened herself up and asked him to Slughorn's Christmas party only to be shot down. He made it clear that he'd rather kiss Lavender Brown than be with her. And like he had in their fourth year, she made it apparent that she had not been happy with his choice.

Ron leaned into her, his lips close to her ear and asked if she was alright.

Alright? Was she? She couldn't be sure. Hermione was sure that she wasn't looking forward to the year ahead, or the war that was imminent and sure to touch everyone, but at that moment, she was good. At that moment, Ron had his arms around her. She replied that she was fine and thinking. Ron pulled away from her ear to look at her with a faint smile. He inquired her thoughts.

She wondered how to ask him why he had gone with Lavender Brown when he had so unmistakably wished to go with her to Slughorn's party. She couldn't comprehend what he had meant by his actions the whole year. He had been so pleased when she had asked him to accompany her. Was it just because Ron wished he were as important as Viktor Krum?

Couldn't he see that he was more important? So much more that she thought her heart would burst from wanting him? He was everything.

"Ron?" she asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"What are we?" she asked simply, unsure how else to ask what she needed to know.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Why do you care so much that Viktor is here?"

"Did he kiss you?" he asked abruptly. The conversation she'd meant to start was swiftly traveling down a prickly path.

"Yes," she answered.

His arms tightened around her. "That's why."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say.

Oh, Ronald! was an option. She could kiss him strongly, approving wholeheartedly of his response.

Oh, for the love of God! was an option. She could smack his shoulder, turning away and marching back to the table they had recently vacated.

Oh, I love you. was an option. She could swoon, hugging him around the neck.

Oh, why the hell didn't you just ask me then? was another option. She was quite sure she wanted the answer to that one.

"Why didn't you just ask me to go to the Ball with you?" she finally responded calmly.

He looked at me with slight trepidation. "I didn't realize how much I wanted it until it was too late."

That was reasonable, she supposed. "Why did you turn away my invitation to Slughorn's party?"

"Because I didn't think I could measure up to him." He looked bitter, angry. "I was stupid. I didn't even want to try anymore."

She paused a long time before deciding to ask her question differently. "Are we just friends?"

He pressed her face back to his shoulder and tightened his arms around her. "Much more than that, Hermione."

And with that, she found her answer.

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A/N: On my lessening updates: see my profile.