First Things First, a harry potter fanfic

Author's notes: As much as I love Ron and Hermione's kiss as described in DH, I sort of wished there was a little... more... about it. So I decided to try and write the scene as through Hermione's eyes. I hope you like it.

None of this belongs to me. JKR owns these wonderful characters and the world they live in.

For a fleeting moment, she realized that she must appear like a little schoolgirl idolizing a pop star as she was singing his praise on their way back to the Room of Requirement, but she brushed away this thought before it had a chance to settle in her mind. To her, this was the absolute truth. He truly had been amazing; he had shown nothing but greatness during the past hour as he had all by himself come up with the brilliant idea of retrieving the Basilisk fangs from the Chamber of Secrets, successfully imitated the complicated hiss that had opened the passage to the Chamber just from the memory of Harry doing it once, guided her through the dark eerie underground tunnel, yanked the fangs out of the mouth of the beast, supported her when she was to destroy Hufflepuff's cup and then brought them safely back on the broom that he had had the thoughtfulness to summon before they had even descended. He had been so clever, so brave, so strong, so much of a leader, so... absolutely amazing!

Infuriating as they could sometimes be, his insecurities had always been one of the many reasons why she loved him as, all in all, she found them rather endearing. But now he had shown her his real self, the one that she had so often seen glimpses of during all those years but that he had never fully allowed himself to show - all those things that he was able to if he only believed in himself - and she was utterly stunned. Of course, this was only the top of it all. He had mentally grown so much during the past year; she could barely believe that this was the same boy - no, man - that, only months ago, would've spent weeks as a complete nervous wreck at the prospect of a Quidditch match that he had to play in. The present Ron was practically glowing with pride, whole and standing tall, as he told Harry what they had done in his absence and for the first time since she knew him, she saw him looking truly confident and completely satisfied with himself, and she felt so happy to see him like that and so, so proud. She hoped that all those astonishing things that he had done tonight would finally make him realize how great, how special, he was. Well, even if they wouldn't, she vowed to herself, shewould certainly make sure that he never had to doubt himself again.

His happiness was contagious. It filled her chest with warmth and blew away nearly all rational thought, the last few scrapes of which were solely focused on suppressing her urge to throw herself at him and to hug him, tightly, and never let go. She actually had to physically restrain herself from doing so by strengthening her hold on the Basilisk fangs in her arms. By now, she might have accidently cracked one or two of them.

Feeling strangely lightheaded, she barely registered that Harry was leading them back into the Room of Requirement, that more people were storming out of the Room into the battle zone. She thoroughly enjoyed this sensation, this sensation not to think, not to worry, not to doubt, but to just feel and let herself be swept away. She didn't think that she had ever felt thus alive.

Her brain only reconnected with the rest of her body at Ron's mention of house elves and she suddenly felt a most peculiar sensation in her stomach. Ron of all persons thinking about house-elves?

"We don't want any more Dobbys, do we?" he said, his voice strangely firm and clear and it oddly resounded in her ears. "We can't order them to die for us -" [1]

This did it. This was the final straw. The world stopped existing. In fact, nothing existed anymore except for the increasingly loud sound of her own blood rushing in her ears as another wave of love and joy washed over her, overwhelming her. He, Ron, the boy who had always made fun of SPEW, had of his own accord voiced concern for house elves, shown that he cared about the creatures that had always been so important to her, the defenseless, the suppressed, mirroring the status of herself in this regime, shown that he shared her values, that he understood her. It was as though his statement had created a bond between them and all the same torn down a wall inside her. She thought her heart would burst with emotion if she didn't do anything about it.

So she did. She didn't care that they were in the midst of a raging war, didn't care that Harry was standing right next to them, didn't care about her year-long fear of rejection. With five large energetic strides over her fangs that were now scattered on the floor (How did they get there? She couldn't remember letting go of them.), she closed the distance between him and herself, flung her arms around his neck, pulled him down to herself and crashed her lips against his.

His entire body tensed and for a split second. She thought that he would pull away, but she wouldn't have any of that. She only tightened her grip on him and intensified her kiss, pouring in six years worth of bottled-up love.

She faintly heard the sound of his fangs and broom clattering to the floor and then he wrapped his arms around her, too, holding her tight. She felt as if she was floating, wild joy running through her body, and if she hadn't been too busy kissing him, she would've screamed with glee. He was accepting her! He wanted her there, wanted her to kiss him! And it felt so, so right. His arms felt so incredibly strong and she instantly felt safe in his embrace. This was where she belonged.

But what felt like a lifetime only lasted a second because the next moment, he scooped her up and rose to full height, taking her with him so that she was raised slightly above him. Taken aback by this, she let out a little squeal into his mouth and tightly clung to his neck and shoulders to steady herself and, without even thinking about it, also folded her legs around his waist. She felt his entire body tremble at the contact and she smiled against his lips, proud that she was able to induce such a reaction.

And then he kissed her back. And the beauty of it, this utter perfection, this fulfillment of her dearest wish made her heart hammer so violently against her ribs that she was certain that it must break out of her chest at any moment. It almost felt surreal to her, as though she was detached from her own body, and yet she was there, his strong hands holding her there. She had dreamt of this for so many years, had spent so many hours imagining what it must be like to kiss him, and now it was really happening and it was so much better than even her wildest fantasies. His kiss was passionate and yet tender, almost a little reluctant, as if he was afraid that this wasn't really happening, that she would break away from him at any moment or that he would wake up from a wonderful dream. But he wouldn't and she wasn't going to let go of him for anything in the world and made damn sure that he knew. Following a sudden urge, she slightly parted her lips and prodded the little gap between his lips with the tip of her tongue. His body shook even more as she gently ran her tongue across his lips and he understood.

She didn't know what she was supposed to do. It was true that she had kissed Viktor all those years before, but in defiance of all rumors, they had never gone thisfar. But she didn't care. She felt so happy, so elated. A hot fire of raw passion that she had never known she was capable of feeling was roaring in her heart, and Ron only helped her keeping it burn when he opened up to her and let her in.

Even despite their sparse meal of bread, cheese and mead hours ago, he tasted delicious; surely it was the same sort of magic that always made his hair smell the way she found so intoxicating. As carefully as her emotions allowed her, she started to explore him, still not quite believing that she was really there, inside him, and then her tongue found his, or perhaps it was the other way round. Their tongues danced around each other and he was treating her with so much tenderness and care that she started to feel slightly dizzy. She was so glad that he was holding her; she wasn't sure if she would've been able to stay upright on her own. She held him even closer, firstly to hold herself more steady but even more so to give him back some of the happiness that he was giving to her, to let him know how much this meant to her, that he was wonderful and that she didn't want this to ever stop. Through their torn and tattered clothes, she could now feel the tough muscles of his torso against her. Her entire body tingled at this sensation and she pressed herself further against him, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel him. He gave a soft moan into her mouth, doubtlessly at the feel of her body against his. And this very sound sent her into overdrive, flaring up the fire in her heart. Suddenly, kissing him was just not enough, she decided, as she twined her tongue around his and vigorously sucked him into her, winding her arms and legs around him even more firmly, making sure that not even a piece of parchment would fit in between them. It simply wasn't. She wanted him.

But as fate would have it, his body didn't quite seem to agree as even though he desperately tried to keep his back rigid, his body was now shaking more violently than ever. She felt his arms become weak and she knew that he wouldn't be able to carry her much longer. With more than just a little regret, she lightly loosened the clutch of her legs on him and though she hadn't said a word, he understood and carefully let her down, lowering her back to her feet. He never moved his lips away from hers as he did, but that wasn't necessary. She wouldn't have allowed him anyway.

She vaguely took notice of Harry saying something, far, far away, and she knew that it meant that they had to separate soon. They were in a war after all and still had a mission to accomplish. But she didn't want to let go of Ron and dreading the moment when she would have to, she desperately pressed him closer to her.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, her voice strangely hoarse, and she could've sworn that her heart had catapulted itself several inches higher up, so strongly was it thumping with joy as she felt his mouth curve into a broad smile and he tightened his hold on her even more and started to gently rock them from side to side. She lightly giggled at his cuteness and he continued to kiss her with so much passion that literal tears of joy welled up in her eyes.

"OI! There's a war going on here!" [2] Harry suddenly yelled, so loud that they both terribly flinched and broke apart, though they remained in each other's embrace.

She was unable to register what Ron said as he replied to Harry, her mind for once too fuzzy to allow her to listen properly as she beamed up at him. With the boyish, slightly bashful grin that was plastered on his face, his flushed cheeks and his very disheveled hair, he was looking absolutely adorable. She was certain that she couldn't possibly love him more than she did at this very moment.

She was proven wrong when he looked down at her, smiling radiantly. His sky blue eyes were sparkling and they were full of admiration and so much sincere love. It took her all her willpower to not plough into him and snog him again.

Harry had to shout to regain their attention and reluctantly, the pair let go, not taking their eyes off of each other as they did. They bent to the floor to recollect the fangs and then followed Harry up the staircase, falling into a bit of a jog as they ascended. She looked up at Ron who was running beside her and she saw him gazing at her, beaming brightly.

She was happy like she never had been before. He was finally hers. It didn't matter what would happen in the next minutes, hours, days. As long as he was with her, it would be alright.