He had let go of her hand when he found the right spot, even though part of him was reluctant to do so. He turned to face her as she leaned back, and it drew him to take a step closer.
Focus, Weasley. This can't be so bloodying hard to do, he thought to himself and he reached out a finger to touch her hands, not wanting to break that connection. He like the way she felt; she was familiar and comfortable and something more that he couldn't decide.
"Don't go with Terry to the dance," Ron blurted out, his eyebrows knitting as he looked into her face, "I mean, we are friends, right? Can...can friends go together? To a dance? Do you want to, Hermione? Go with me, I mean? Oh, bullocks, I'm sodding ruining this," he said, feeling helpless at what he wanted to say, how he felt and how he felt he should act. She was his good friend, as close to him as Harry. Did she expect him to ask her? Would she be upset if he didn't take her?
It all came down to how he really felt; he had just noticed that she was very much like a girl, a real girl, and the notion of her going with anyone else made him feel very protective and jealous. He tried to start again.
"Do you know what I'm saying? Are you going to make me ask again?" he said, more fingers moving to join the one as he wrapped his hand around hers and gave her a small squeeze. He looked at her, slightly pleading and hopeful that she understood what he meant.