"That is not the point, Ronald!" Hermione's face was flushed, her hair bushier than usual, her chest heaving, and her brown eyes dark and bright. She was glaring viciously at Ron.
"I was just asking!" Ron held up his hands as if in defeat.
"Well it's none of you business what I wore in front of Viktor!"
"I just don't want other blokes looking at you like…that, ok? I'm looking out for you," Ron's ears began to heat up.
"Well at least they're looking at me! At least they actually express the fact that they fancy me, instead of going off and snogging random girls just because they show theslightest bit of interest!" She snapped.
"And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Ron demanded.
"You know perfectly well what it means, Ronald Weasley, so you should stop picking random fights with me over absolutely nothing and just- Arrgh!" She finished her rant with a small scream, clearly too frustrated to think of a bad enough insult.
"Well you shouldn't be running around in that…'skirt' if you don't want me to be picking fights with you!"
"It's nearly summer, you lunatic! I am not going to wear my robes and school trousers in this weather!"
"I'm wearing school trousers and I'm perfectly fine!"
"Well maybe you should try a skirt one of these days, then you'll see what you've been missing!" She snarled. Ron turned red.
"You're very amusing, Hermione, " He growled. "Now will you please go put your robe on so we can go outside?"
"I will not! We are on break and I don't have to wear the stupid thing! It's too hot, Ronald! Besides, you're not wearing yours, neither is anyone else. Look at all the other girls," She gestured to what had been a bustling hallway behind them. Unfortunately for her, it was now deserted. "Well… they weren't. Parvati wasn't." She poked him rather hard in the chest. "And neither was…Lavender,' (poke) "or Susan," (poke) "or Hannah!" (poke)
"Ouch, woman, keep those fingernails away from me!" He grabbed her 'poking hand.'
"Why weren't you yelling at them, Ron?" she demanded. He sighed.
"Because. Do we have to go through this?"
"Because I don't care about them like I care about you, and I don't care if there are random blokes staring at them, but I don't want anyone…ogling you,"- Hermione smirked at his choice of words- " And anyway, you're not like the other girls," his expression softened, "you're different." He reached down and touched her cheek softly, then, gently, he traced her jawline with one finger. His touch burned her, and yet she shivered. It was amazing how quickly the atmosphere could change around them. Moments ago it was crackling with electricity and anger, and now… there was electricity, yes, but this electricity… it was laced with…something else. She stared up into his blue eyes, as though searching for something. After a few moments, she seemed to find it.
"Tell me how I'm different, Ron," she breathed, afraid to speak out loud and break the spell.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, ears glowing. "You're beautiful and clever, and funny, and sweet, and you're mad, and you drive me mad, and I'm absolutely, hopelessly, ridiculously in love with you." She nearly burst into tears, it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her.
"I love you too, Ron," she murmured, choking up slightly. "I love everything about you. I love the way your ears turn red when you're embarrassed, I love your sense of humor, I love the way you're forever bothering me because you need help with your homework, and I love pretending that it's the most irritating thing in the world, even though I secretly love it, because your knee always bumps mine under the table when you sit next to me so I can correct it…actually, I love it when you touch me at all…" She trailed off, staring into his eyes. He grinned.
"Then, I suppose, you'll love this." And without further ado, he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. They broke apart.
"Ron…" She yanked him forward by the collar and somehow, in the heated frenzy of it all, he managed to maneuver it so that she was up against the corridor wall. His hands were grazing up and down her torso possessively, his tongue, parting her lips. She gave a soft moan when she realized exactly what he was capable of. A small part of her brain reminded her that she had Lavender to thank for this…newfound ability, but the rest of her was telling it to shut up, so it did. He had one hand entangled in her hair now, the other on her hip, his thumb, underneath the waistband of her skirt, rubbing the soft skin there gently.
"God – Ron," she could barely speak. He pulled away.
"Bit of a hypocrite, aren't I?"
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, one minute I'm yelling at you because I think your skirt's too short and the next, I want it off you."