"What do you have there, Hermione?" Harry asked.  Ron looked up from his plate, his face pale.

            "It's nothing," she said automatically.  "Just a…reminder to return some…library books."  She looked at Ron again.  He was so pale his freckles stood out in contrast against his skin.  "Are you all right, Ron?  You look a sight pale."

            Ron swallowed hard.  "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just ate a little too fast, I guess."

            She clucked in disapproval.  "We should get to class."

            Ron felt like his stomach had lead weights in it all day.  He was nauseous, and then he felt jittery.  In Potions, when Hermione smiled at him because he'd managed to get minimal praise from Snape, he almost tossed his cookies.  What had Fred gotten him into?

            Even Harry noticed something was wrong with his friend.  Every time Ron even glanced at Hermione, he seemed to grow a shade paler.  He couldn't imagine what could be wrong with him, except that he finally realized he liked Hermione.  It had been obvious to Harry, but he supposed that was just because he was the third party.  If Ron had realized it before Hermione realized she liked him, he must be more perceptive than anyone had given him credit for.

            Ron noticed Harry watching him.  "What is it?  Do I have something on my face?" he asked in Transfiguration.  The clock was ticking, the day was almost over.  He just had to get through dinner, pretend to go to bed, then sneak out.  He gulped.  Piece of cake.

            Harry chuckled.  "No, it's just—"

            "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley.  No talking," Professor McGonagall admonished.

            "Sorry," they chorused.

            Ron spent the afternoon much as he had the morning—nauseous.  When dinner finally rolled around, Ron found that he couldn't bring himself to eat a bite.  Hermione seemed calm as ever, and Ron wondered what her secret was.  She received a mysterious message this morning from a secret admirer, but she made not display of emotion, while Ron was falling apart.

            "See you later," he mumbled as he pushed back from the table and escaped to the common room.  For the first time in his school career, he set immediately to work on his homework.  He raced through Care of Magical Creatures, slaved over an intricate Potions assignment, and made up a bunch of stuff for Divination.  Halfway through Transfiguration, Fred sauntered through the portrait hole and stood over his brother.

            "Cut out of dinner a little early, huh?"  Fred's eyes twinkled with mischief.

            "Yeah, what's it to you?" Ron grumbled.

            "What is it to me?  I only orchestrated this whole blessed event.  What are you doing shut up in the common room when your girlfriend is at dinner?"

            "Shut up," was all he managed.  "I'm kinda nervous," he admitted finally.  His eyes slid to the ground in shame.  "What's the matter with me?"

            Fred examined his little brother.  Though he was fifteen, he seemed so much younger, his face as pale as it was.  He remembered being that squeamish around girls.  It hadn't lasted long though.  He was quite the ladies' man for a time, but then he realized how much he just wanted to be Angelina's man.

            Fred sat down on the couch next to him.  "Listen Ron, you'll be fine.  Just pull yourself together, okay?  Ask Harry to borrow the invisibility cloak or something.  I already asked him to loan Hermione the Marauder's Map, so she'll be okay."

            "You told Harry?" Ron croaked.

            Fred snorted.  "Yeah, I did.  I figured it would cut back on the questions when I asked him to loan out the map and cloak.  He said it was about time."

            "Oh."

            Fred laughed again and rose.  "Just calm down.  It's just Hermione, after all.  What could happen?"

            "She could say she doesn't like me, then our whole friendship would be ruined."

            "But you forgot one thing."

            "What?" Ron looked perplexed.

            "She does like you.  Trust me."

            Ron snuck out of bed at eleven forty five and crept down to the common room, draped in the invisibility cloak.  He needed to wait for Hermione to leave so he wouldn't run into her.  Indeed, he didn't have to wait long.  Hermione tip-toed down the girls' staircase in her long dressing gown.  She stood at the portrait hole and checked the map, then hurried out.

            He waited a few minutes, and then followed suit.  The Fat Lady mumbled a few annoyed words, but other than that, he reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts room unscathed.

            He debated whether to take the cloak off before he went in, or after.  His jittery stomach told him to take it off after.

            He opened the door quietly and slipped through.  As Fred promised, many candles burned and a bouquet of roses lay on the table.  There was an assortment of pastries and what looked to be a wine bottle, filled with pumpkin juice.

            Hermione was looking out the window, but turned sharply when the door snapped shut.  "Who's there?" she said penetratingly, drawing her wand.

            Ron licked his lips, banished his nerves, and threw off the cloak.

            "Ron?  What are you doing here?"  Hermione frowned and lowered her wand.  Then realization spread across her face.  "You didn't…your aren't the one who…" she gestured wildly, "Sent the note and planned all this?"

            He nodded.  Her face turned as red as his hair.  "Oh," she breathed.  She sat at one end of the table, which was actually a few desks pushed together, and tucked a stray hair behind her hair.

            Ron tossed the cloak over a chair and sat down across from her.  "Want something to eat?" he asked awkwardly.

            She nodded and took an éclair.

            After a few minutes of silence, Ron couldn't stand it anymore.  "Say something, Hermione."

            She looked up at him, and smiled.  He was slightly taken aback.  "It's just a bit of a shock, is all."

            "You mean you didn't know I like you?"

            "No."

            "Do you…do you like me?"  He tried to keep his voice casual, but it had a bit of a squeak to it none the less.

            "Yes."

            "Well, then why didn't you say something before now?"

            "Why didn't you?" she countered.

            "Because I was afraid that you wouldn't…you know, and then it would be weird, I guess."

            "Me too," she said.  This is really beautiful.  I'm so flattered that you went to so much trouble."

            He was going to tell her that Fred planned the whole thing, but he couldn't bring himself to.  He deserved this credit.  "It was no big deal," he said.

            "Yes, it is a big deal.  No one's ever gone to this much trouble for me.  I really appreciate it."  She took his hand.  "It's so romantic."

            He cleared his throat.  "Yeah, I guess it is."

            He looked into her eyes, and felt this shock of awareness.  They both leaned across the table, as if they were drawn by magnets toward one another.  He planted a tentative kiss on her lips, and she responded by deepening the kiss.  Ron could hear fireworks, and he dared not open his eyes because he knew he'd see the full color spectrum.  He just enjoyed the moment.

            "That was…" Hermione started.

            "I know."  They looked at one another again, fully aware that this was just the beginning of things.  They had a long road ahead, but neither would back away.

I so wanted to add "And they lived happily ever after."  Hehe.  Now this story is officially finished.  If you're bored, check out my other stories, like my latest, Ready to Run:  Ginny Weasley is 29, and has been married, divorced, and very confused.  When Harry Potter comes back into her life and stirs up old feelings, will she stay or run?