Part I - December 25, 1994

Hermione stormed through the common room's portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's loud comments about inconsiderate people. She had been having such a good night. . .She had even been kissed tonight. And then Ron Weasley had to ruin her night. Again.

"You had no right!" she shouted at him over her shoulder. She almost tripped over her blue dress as she swung a leg in and her hair was falling out of its knot but she didn't care. She was livid.

"No right? He looked like he was about to attack you right in the middle of the Great Hall!" Ron yelled back at her, following her into the common room. He was just as angry as Hermione, his face turning red and his hands shaking.

"How would that have been any of your business?" she retorted nastily.

"Because he-he's using you!"

Truthfully, he had just caught them right when Victor pulled away from the kiss he had bestowed upon her, and Hermione was grateful for that. If he had happened upon them during the kiss, she'd hate to see his reaction then.

"Using me? Oh, that's great. Because no one would ever want to ask me out for a night unless they had an ulterior motive, right?"

Ron flushed even brighter, his eyes sliding away from her face and down to the ground. At least he had the decency to look ashamed at what his statement had implied. "I didn't mean it like that," he said quietly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you ruined my night—one of the first nights that I finally got to have fun, where you or Harry weren't breathing down my neck for the answers to the homework you didn't even try to do. No, the moment you saw the opportunity, you swooped right in there and drove Victor away to completely ruin the night!"

"That's not why I did it!" said Ron loudly. "I did it because I was worried for you! I thought he was using you; he's Harry's opponent! Even you must have thought something was off when he asked you to the ball, or when he was lurking around the library whenever you two were there."

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say. Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously and she took a step closer to him. "Is the thought of someone fancying me so revolting to you that you don't think anybody in the entire world is capable of it?"

Ron's eyes widened as he realized his second mistake and rushed to fix it. "No! No, that—that's not what I meant at all! But—"

"But what, Ron?"

He paused, looking for the right words to describe what he was thinking. But it was no use. His thoughts were a big jumble of apologies, each worded more ridiculous than the last. If he ever said stuff like that to Hermione, she'd laugh in his face, he was sure of it.

"Forget it," she scoffed, accepting his silence and turning to head up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

"No! Wait, Hermione, I didn't mean it like that!" He reached out and grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving. Ron was no good at this, but this was his best friend. And she was right; he had ruined her night, so he was determined to fix it in at least one way and resolve their fight.

"What?" she said, exasperated.

"I'm sorry," he said miserably.

Hermione snorted and Ron could have sworn he felt a twinge of pain in his chest at the sharp noise in the otherwise silent and empty common room. "There shouldn't even be a reason for you to be sorry. I mean, honestly."

"But there is, and I am! I'm sorry for interfering with your night with Krum. I'm sorry for interrupting you guys right in the middle of your conversation outside the common room. And I'm sorry that I implied you weren't good enough to have a night with just because they liked you. Blokes don't need an ulterior motive to ask you out." He took a deep breath, hoping for the best.

For a moment, it seemed like Hermione was going to forgive him. But no.

She shrugged, her body language giving off the vibe of being indifferent to his little speech, but her eyes wouldn't meet his and she wouldn't stand still. She kept fidgeting. "Well, that's just too bad. What's done is done. So unless you want to go downstairs and find Victor to apologize. . ." She trailed off, waiting to see if Ron would take the bait. She met his eyes, gauging his reaction.

His arms tightened across his chest and he winced. "Apologize to him? Not bloody likely."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So what's the difference between apologizing to me and apologizing to him? Because he doesn't give you homework answers?"

"No, because I actually care if you're upset with me!"

She fell silent and crossed her arms across her chest, looking away from him again. "You sure have a funny way of showing it," she said weakly, trying to grasp at an argument to bring up that would make him apologize to both of them.

Ron suddenly shot forward, his face glinting with anger. "I didn't want you to go tonight with a stranger who might have had ulterior motives for asking you! That's why I was upset!"

Encouraged by his sudden outburst, Hermione felt her frustration finally reach its peak. "Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" she yelled.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Ron replied in a patronizing sort of voice.

She only had half a second to think about it before it came tumbling out of her mouth. "Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" She turned around and caught a passing glance at Harry, standing in front of the portrait hole looking stunned, before running up the stairs to bed. She didn't bother listening to Ron's reply, or if he even had one. She didn't care.

. . .

Hermione didn't come down to the common room until much later that night.

She guessed that it was pretty late, in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark outside but it was past midnight.

"Hermione."

Jumping slightly, Hermione turned around to see Ron looking up at her from one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. He looked tired, and his hair was awfully messy, as if he had tugged at it hundreds of times in frustration in the past few hours since they'd last seen each other.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and collapsed on the sofa tiredly. "Not now, Ron," she said. "I can't take any more fighting."

He shook his head and rose unsteadily to his feet. Making his way to where Hermione was sitting, Ron sat down next to her. "No fighting. Promise."

She looked up at him curiously but with a hint of anger still glinting in her eyes. "Then what do you want?"

"To apologize. No, really, listen," he said when she opened her mouth to interrupt him, "I am really sorry. Everything I said tonight was. . .out of line. I just didn't want to see you get hurt, and I was upset when I found out someone had asked you."

Hermione shrugged casually, but her heart was beating ridiculously fast in her chest. He was upset that someone had asked her? Did that amount to jealousy? And if it did, then why wouldn't he just say that? Although, she was partly to blame. She could have asked him to the Yule Ball. But that would have been embarrassing. It was all just so frustrating, and she really didn't want to think about any of it right now.

"Why were you upset?" she asked quietly.

Ron looked like a fish out of water. "What?" he asked, praying that he had heard her wrong. He really didn't want to get into that now. It was late and he was tired, so he was bound to say something unbelievably stupid.

"I said," Hermione began, irritation beginning to creep into her voice, "why were you upset when you saw me and Victor at the Yule Ball? Did you honestly think I would just go to the ball by myself and deal with the jokes the next day?"

Ron felt a wave of sympathy for Hermione. He had never even thought about what the girls would have said if she had shown up alone.

"Because. . . .I don't bloody know, Hermione! I just know that I wouldn't have wanted you to go with someone who didn't know you. And I don't just mean know your name and the fact that you're brilliant and smart, because anyone could find that out after spending five minutes in the same room as you, but I'm talking about knowing all of you. It would have been an insult to you, honestly."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, a little shocked his statement. That was awfully sweet of him. She was still terribly confused about. . .well, everything. She was touched that Ron thought she deserved someone who truly loved her. There was still some lingering anger at what he had done to her and Victor, but she slowly felt that fading away as she looked at her best friend.

"Well, then why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

Ron shrugged. "Because I was scared it would sound stupid. That you would have laughed about it because you would have gone off about how you could take care of yourself and all that shit."

Hermione sighed heavily and put her hand on Ron's knee. It lasted for about a second before she realized that it was awkward and she hastily removed it without looking Ron in the eye. She had a feeling he was blushing bright as she was.

"I don't," she said, leaning back against the couch and closing her eyes. "Think it's stupid, I mean. I think it's sweet. Really sweet, honestly." Hermione opened one eye and looked over at Ron.

When he saw her look at him, he quickly averted eye contact with her and looked down at the ground to avoid her. "Thanks," he said.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders casually and sat up, feeling a wave of exhaustion overcome her as it suddenly hit her how late it was and just how very tired she really was. Standing up, she brushed off her nightgown and retied the knot of her bathrobe.

Ron followed her actions and walked next to her by the girls' staircase. He leaned against the banner trying for all the world to look casual and failing miserably. His eyes were too wild, darting all around the room and his hands kept fidgeting.

"Good night, Ron," Hermione said softly, but she made no move to walk upstairs.

Ron looked down at her and she realized how big their height difference was. She barely brushed his shoulder. And standing there, at whatever time it was in the morning, Hermione didn't feel so tired anymore even though she had almost fell over a few minutes ago. Ron made a little movement with his hands, as if he was going to touch her, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then he stilled and his mouth fell shut, and Hermione bit back the rising disappointment she felt blooming in her chest. Maybe, if she could just figure out what she wanted to say. . .she could tell him she truly wanted to go to the ball with him. Maybe. . .

"'Night, Hermione," Ron whispered, and when he turned around to walk to the boys' staircase, she felt his whole side brush against her, and Hermione had to bite her lip to keep the words she still hadn't formed properly in her head from spilling out.