@wazlibwheezes
Hermione, for once in her life, felt the need to say absolutely nothing--or, in the very least, not say anything at the moment. She and Ron needed to talk, needed to address what they wanted with one another, but wasn’t she allowed to be selfish every now and again?
Words had power, Hermione knew that better than anybody else. They could make or break something just as much as an action could, but she didn’t want this to be broken. Years of pining after Ron, of small glances thrown his way and swearing they were being returned, accumulated to a kiss in the middle of battle that frustrated the hell out of Harry, and it was hard for Hermione to take her hand away from Ron’s or drift too far from him since. She knew, logically, that she was being ridiculous, but if she was relishing the two of them sitting on a dust-covered step with their hands entwined and bodies angled toward one another, who could blame her?
But they had to talk. Assumptions could let this crash and burn as easily as words could, and Hermione didn’t want it to crash and burn. How did a conversation like that start, though? Her last boyfriend had been three years ago for a brief period of time, and she’d hardly call that proper experience. Instead, Hermione just moved a little closer to Ron, knee brushing against his, and took a deep breath to prepare herself. “So.”
Very smooth, Granger.