Hidden away above Weasley Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley lay a quiet little flat, which was occupied by the two current owners of the joke shop that lay below them.

After the life-changing downfall of Lord Voldemort, Ron Weasley had been accepted as part-owner of the joke shop his brothers, Fred and George, had founded. George, who now realized he needed someone supporting him with the shop, had not only accepted Ron's invitation for working at the shop when he needed it, but made Ron part-owner, and allowed him to move in with him above the shop.

Now, however, the door to that same little flat ripped open as a very irritable Ron Weasley stormed inside. He tore open the pantry, withdrew a bottle of firewhisky and a glass, poured a hearty amount of the drink in the glass, and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

Today had been horrible, mostly owing to the fact that it was the one-year anniversary of the last battle that ended the life of the Dark Lord, and coincidentally, the lives of dozens of others, including Fred.

George had started the day off by staying in bed and sulking, forcing Ron to open the shop on his own (he swore they should get the day off, it's marked down as a sort of Independence Day, isn't it?). Then, to make matters worse, the joke shop was extra packed, and only Ron and Verity (an employee who still stuck with George and Ron after the war) were present to handle it.

George didn't come out of his room all day, and he was still in there now, as Ron sank into an armchair, bottle of firewhisky in hand. Ron and Verity had closed the shop on their own, at which time Ron had stomped off to the flat he shared with George, ready to give him an earful. He, Ron, was Fred's brother too, and he had gone through much more than George ever had done, being the best mate of Harry Potter. So what made George so special that he could lie in bed all day sulking?

But now, Ron didn't feel much like yelling at George, especially since he was already a bit tipsy from the firewhisky.

To make the day any worse, Ron had received a Patronus from Hermione informing him that they couldn't get together that night as he had asked because she already had plans with Ginny.

So now he was alone for the night, with only moping George and a bottle of firewhisky for company.

Ron sighed and rose from the armchair. He was just considering going to bed (without getting blasted drunk) when there was a knock at the door. He set the bottle down and opened the door to find Hermione standing before him, looking quite solemn.

Even the sight of her made him brighten in the slightest. He couldn't help it, the fact that he was together with Hermione Granger could make him content for days on end.

"Hi," she said, giving him a small smile and walking past him into the flat.

"Hey," said Ron thickly. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with Ginny."

"She cancelled," said Hermione simply, frowning at the half-empty firewhisky bottle on the counter. She picked it up and stared at Ron, raising an eyebrow at him and waiting, with a hand on her hip, for an explanation.

"I only had one glass," Ron grinned, both the alcohol of the firewhisky and his bad mood now finding their way out of his system. He rather liked it when they argued, and he knew this was the start of a small row.

"Yes, but the stuff is strong," said Hermione reprovingly. "Ron, please don't do this to yourself, it could lead to other things…"

"Hermione," said Ron, grabbing her by the shoulders. "It was only because I had a bad day. I promise, I won't resort to firewhisky in the future." He gave her a small smile and he could tell that she knew he meant it. "Come to me instead, okay?" she offered.

"Yeah, I will." Ron then wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, a much more proper greeting. When he pulled away, he held her by the shoulders at arm's length to look at her. "So what d'you want to do tonight? George is in his room sulking, been in there all day…maybe we could go out…"

Hermione rose an eyebrow, and Ron realized how beautiful she looked when she was about to scold him. "Shouldn't you go check on him?"

"Nah, it's best to leave him alone, especially today…" Ron frowned and gazed into space, thinking about this exact day a year before. Hermione took his face into her hands and made his face turn to hers.

"It's alright to think about him," she told him. "Fred, I mean. And we don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to –"

She was cut off by Ron's lips upon hers, the only thing Ron needed to indulge in at the moment. She sighed against his lips, wishing that the moment could last forever. But only too soon, Ron pulled away and looked her deep in the eyes. "I do want to. I need something to distract me, and as I remember, today is the anniversary of something else as well."

Hermione rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. She knew exactly what he was talking about, of course. Their first kiss had taken place in the middle of the last battle.

"You always have to make the first move," Ron suddenly told her, remembering the night as clearly as ever.

"If I hadn't, I may have been waiting forever for you," she shot back. She dropped her arms from around his waist, and walked over to the nearby stove and started making a cup of tea, an amused expression stuck on her face.

As he watched her, Ron realized something very important regarding Hermione. He realized that despite how many times he had studied, memorized and stared at every feature Hermione possessed (her habits, the exact color of her brown eyes, the way her hair got slightly bushier when she was stressed), he really had never told her how beautiful he found her to be.

"Do you know," said Ron, jumping slightly to sit perched behind Hermione on the countertop, "I don't quite remember ever telling you how beautiful you are."

Hermione visually jumped a bit at this random comment, and turned to face him, hands on her hips, her face slightly pink. "No, I don't believe you have. Besides –" she said sadly, turning back to the tea. " – I'm not beautiful."

"WHAT?"

Ron's sudden burst of exclamation shocked Hermione and she jumped back from him. "Hermione, how can you possibly think that? Merlin, you're more than beautiful, you're dead gorgeous! How can you think –" he cut himself off, still not comprehending how someone like Hermione, who had grown from a big-toothed, bushy-haired girl into a strikingly beautiful woman, can believe she's anything but beautiful.

Ron took a step toward Hermione and took her into his arms, while she looked up at him, quite curiously, with big eyes. "Do you know how I see you? Do you even know what I see in you?"

Hermione shook her head, looking a little frightened, but curious at the same time. Ron sighed. "Hermione, all I can ever see anymore is you, even when you're not here. Your face is always in my mind, and it helps that you're beautiful –" (Hermione turned a dark shade of scarlet) "– because if you were downright ugly, it would be a lot harder thinking of you."

Hermione frowned and looked a little hurt. "So you only like me because you think I'm pretty, do you?" she asked heatedly.

"No, no!" shouted Ron, forcing her to think the contrary. "No, Hermione, Merlin, that's not it at all. I'm just trying to say - I see so much more in you appearance than you do."

To his surprise, Hermione cocked her head, and looked challengingly up at him. "Like what?"

"Well, I'll tell you," Ron said, just as the tea kettle whistled behind them. He poured them both a cup a tea, and they settled on the sofa together, Hermione snuggled up into Ron's side, her head on his shoulder.

"For starters, your eyes just blow me away, period. I memorized those ages ago, but I can never get tired at looking at them. I can tell anyone who asks the exact color of Hermione Granger's eyes: soft brown with a tint of green in the middle."

Hermione blushed but did not interrupt. Ron grinned and kissed her forehead before going on. "Second, and I don't care what anyone else says, I think your hair is brilliant."

To this, Hermione scoffed, and Ron laughed. "No, really! I'm completely serious! I've loved it for such a long time Hermione, and I've always wondered why you hated it."

"Because it's out of control –"

"– which is why I love it," interrupted Ron. "It just suits you Hermione, and I like it better when it's curly versus when you straighten it."

Hermione looked surprised at this, and allowed him to go on. "And do you know, back in fifth year, when you were away at Hagrid's trying to plan his lessons for him, me and Harry started talking about girls in our year and we agreed you had the best smile, hands down. It could light up the darkest cave you know, and I think it could possibly be used against dementors.

"Merlin, I love to watch you when you find a book you were looking for. Your eyes light up and you look as if nothing could make you happier. Then I know I can be happy too, even if we're in the middle of a war.

"Hermione, you may not think it, but you're a hottie. A ton of guys would kill to just be in my place, and I know it. You're a knockout, and that's why I always wonder why, in a million years, someone as beautiful and clever as you would pick someone like me."

He turned to Hermione, who looked as if she had been stumped for the first time in her life. Then without warning, she kissed with a force that reminded him of the night she had first done it.

It was a wonderful feeling, kissing Hermione. He felt like the world was speeding by around them, but neither of them cared how old they were when they broke apart.

When Hermione finally did break away, Ron groaned and tried to lean in again for more, but she pulled away from him. "Do you want to know how I see you?"

Ron raised his eyebrows, interest flowing throughout his body. He drew an arm around her and asked, "How do you see me?"

"Well," Hermione said, pausing to drive him mad, "I don't care what others say, I think your freckles are adorable. I think I've memorized almost all of them."

At this, Ron's ears burned red, and Hermione laughed. "There's another. I love when your ears turn red; it tells me I've thoroughly embarrassed you." Hermione smiled cheekily at him and he rolled his eyes. "Thanks for that, now I know to watch what I say around you," Ron shot back.

She leaned back against his arm, which was still around her shoulders. She smiled at him, admiring him. "I love your red hair. I know a load of people don't think so, but I happen to think gingers are incredibly sexy." She giggled and Ron knew she was watching his ears turn red again.

"Your eyes tell me so much. They're my favorite color, the color of your eyes. I'll always love that blue. I love your height too; it suits you, so – in turn – it suits me. I feel like I fit perfectly in your arms just because you're a foot taller than me." Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "I remember in our sixth year, while you were dating Lavender, Harry told me the only girl who would suit you would be a girl at least a foot shorter than you. Then he turned around and looked at me, like I should get on with it and ask you out." Ron remembered their sixth year with a rather sick feeling pulling at his stomach; Lavender had been a relatively tall girl: the same height as Harry and only a few inches shorter than Ron.

"…and do you know how that all adds up in my book?" Hermione asked him, looking straight in his eyes. Ron shook his head, grinning. "Well, I think that all adds up to a very handsome, gorgeous guy," she said, a smirk playing at her lips.

Ron couldn't take it. She had just basically poured her heart to him, and he needed to repay her. He leaned in and kissed her with the same force she had with him.

Both lost in their own private world, the two later found themselves lying on the couch, fast asleep under a blanket, their arms wrapped around each other.

Before they had fallen asleep, one last thought had surged through Ron's mind as he admiringly watched Hermione fall asleep: maybe he didn't need to go out tonight.