"I fucking love you, Hermione."
"Ron!" Hermione shouted as her head whipped back up. She looked shocked by his choice of words, but unable to contain her happiness at hearing him say it back.
"You told me you love it when I swear too much," Ron said, shrugging.
Ron rolled his eyes at her joke. "You're a very pretty one, at that."
"I'm a pretty stone?"
"You know what I mean. Take the compliment."
"You're pretty, too."
"I haven't even got the energy to argue," Ron said, rolling his eyes again. "You wore me out, woman."
"You left me."
Hermione's eyes burn with tears, fully aware that the betrayal she feels mirrors his own.
"I may have left five years ago, but you left me a long time before that, and you know it, Ron."+
"So, Ronald," she said, startling him —she'd never called him by his first name before—, "tell me: in another universe, did I agree to go out with you sooner?"
"Oh, in more than one," Weasley said nonchalantly, leaning back into his chair.
"Yeah! I mean — are you sure?"
"Yes, I am," Hermione nodded. "We're a couple, aren't we? So I don't see the problem. The rule about cohabitation is very old fashioned."
Ron laughed. "'Cohabitation'?" he asked, smirking at her. "Merlin, have I told you how much I love you?"
"Hermione?" he practically whispered. She had never heard him say her name like that, and she could scarcely breathe as she looked into his eyes and gave him a slow nod. Then his face was coming towards her and she was shutting her eyes. +
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered.
Suddenly, the world around them seemed to explode. Their lips collided, and Hermione couldn’t even be sure if she leaned into him or he came down to her. Perhaps they simply crashed in the middle.