DISCLAIMER: I own…no, never mind, I don't own the Harry Potter books. But I do…*sigh* no, I don't own the movies either. But I really do…not…own the franchise. Fine. I don't own Harry Potter. I own my copies of the books…does that count? No? *sigh*. You depress me.

THIS IS DEDICATED TO MY WONDERFUL FRIEND MAHIMA! HAPPY 14TH, CHICA BELLA! ENJOY THE R/HR. GO TO HER PROFILE (Miss. Spearmint. Toothpaste) AND READ HER STORIES OR FACE THE WRATH OF MANY ANGRY FICTIONAL CHARACTERS! :D

A/N: This is actually kind of a follow-up, companion Ron/Hermione piece to my Harry/Ginny story A Perfect Mess.

A Beautiful Disaster

The kitchen was empty and dark except for the halo of soft white light surrounding the tip of my wand.

I shuffled around for a few minutes, opening and closing cupboards, not really looking for anything in particular. Finally, I put the kettle on and pulled out a packet of hot chocolate, hoping the rich, warm drink would soothe me back to sleep.

I'd been having nightmares for quite a while now. Really, we all had, but nobody would admit it. That doesn't mean we weren't aware of it, though. We all knew. That was why I didn't flip out on the occasions that I woke to find Ginny cuddled against Harry's side, sleeping peacefully, but with tear tracks staining her face.

This time, I'd been back at Malfoy Manor, hearing Hermione scream, yelling her name till I was hoarse, pounding my fists on the walls till they were bloody, all alone, until the screams died away and that was even worse, because I knew it meant she was gone and I had failed her in the worst way.

Waking in the same sort of cold sweat I so often saw on Harry, I had tiptoed past Harry and Ginny, who were sleeping soundly in each other's arms, and wished I had the courage to visit Hermione now.

When I trudged past the room she shared with Ginny, I satisfied myself with pressing an ear to the door and listening to the quietest of snores for a full three minutes. Was it possible for snores to be feminine and delicate? I wondered…because hers seemed to be.

The shrill whistle of the kettle jarred me back into reality, and I snatched it off the stove hastily, hoping it hadn't woken anyone, but almost burning myself in the process.

I let out a string of profanities that Hermione would have had my head for, and dipped my finger under the stream of cold water that came gushing from the sink when I turned the tap.

"Very slick, brother of mine," a soft voice snorted sleepily from the doorway. It was Ginny.

I felt a slight pang of loss when I saw that over her short shorts, she was wearing an old Gryffindor Quidditch shirt of Harry's, probably from his fifth or sixth year, as it was too big for her but probably wouldn't fit my best mate anymore.

She used to steal my tees.

But then, the teasing big brother in me came out, and I raised my eyebrows at her when she turned to help herself to a cup of cocoa as well, and I saw the name POTTER stitched in gold letters across her back.

I smirked as though I'd just realized who's shirt she was wearing and said, "Potter now, huh Gin?"

She smacked me lightly. "Shut it, Ronald. It's just his shirt."

I sniggered. "For now…for now…."

She shrugged. "Right, Ronnikins…and is there a reason you're so happy about the fact that Harry proposed to me all of a sudden? We've been engaged for quite a while. You were thinking about getting on one knee yourself, weren't you?" she retorted slyly.

"I…I….Yeah, so what if I was?"

"When?"

"What of it?"

Ginny heaved a long-suffering sigh through her nose. "Well…what about tomorrow? You have the ring…."

"How did you know I -"

She waved it off like an irksome fly. "Ron, I'm Harry's fiancé."

"Oh. But why tomorrow?"

Ginny stared at me suspiciously, like she thought I was trying to be funny.

"What?" I snapped defensively, draining the last of my cocoa.

"Well, are you planning on making tomorrow special at all?" she asked incredulously.

"What the bloody hell is tomorrow?" I growled at her, the incredulous smirk she wore starting to annoy me.

Yep. That's my sister, the little angel.

Ginny frowned at me. "You really don't know, do you?" she muttered, giving me a half-amused, half-disgusted look. "Some boyfriend you are. If Harry forgot my birthday, I'd kill him!"

It took a moment for her words to sink in. When they did, I was devoutly thankful that I'd finished my hot chocolate, as the mug clattered to the floor, shattering right next to my bare feet.

We both froze, but the house remained quiet and still.

"Reparo," Ginny murmured, taking control as I was still sitting there open-mouthed in shock and horror.

"Her birthday is tomorrow," I whispered to myself, frozen in terror. "I forgot her birthday! Oh, Ginny, you've gotta help me! Where am I going to get a last minute birthday gift that's special enough for her?"

My sister stuck the mugs in the sink, completely unconcerned about the fact that tomorrow I would be facing my murderous girlfriend.

"Ron," she said, completely composed as she turned to me, "you are such an idiot sometimes! You already have the perfect gift, you bozo!"

"I do?" I muttered stupidly.

Ginny scowled at me, then snapped, "Well, either you bought the ring a week ago like you told Harry you did, or you were lying to get out of it. Please tell me you weren't trying to get out of it!"

"Of course not," I said, completely bemused.

"Well then, you have the perfect present, and nobody need ever know you forgot save you and me."

My eyes widened in what, judging by my darling little sister's expression, was a comical manner.

"You're saying I should propose tomorrow?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "'Night, Ron. Good luck tomorrow."

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

She turned back, her expression softer. "'Course she will. Can't you see how much she loves you?"

I nodded mutely, and smiled at Ginny.

The next evening, I dragged Hermione out for a walk in the cool September air, and as we trudged along the path through the orchard, my hands stuffed in my pockets awkwardly, I thought, Well, it's now or never!

I fumbled over my words, I forgot to kneel, I had a hard time opening the box.

In short, it was rather a disaster.

As I finally got across what I was trying to ask, Hermione stared at me, her face completely blank.

For a second, I thought, She's gonna kill me!

Then, she broke into the biggest smile I've ever seen on her, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed me so hard I felt like I was going to pass out.

"YES!" she squealed, practically jumping up and down, which was rather awkward, because she still had her arms around me.

So, yeah, maybe I'm not the most eloquent person on earth, but if it gets me this reaction, I should pull off last-minute birthday presents more often.

A/N: Right, so whaddaya think? Tell me how I did for my first strait-out Ron/Hermione story!