Christmas Surprises

Ron Weasley looked up from his Divination homework and scowled. Great, he thought to himself. Just great. You're already in a crappy mood from this bloody star chart you have to do, and now you've got to deal with that.

"That" was what he was scowling at. Across the Gryffindor common from him, seated in a comfortable position in front of the fire, was Hermione Granger. She was talking quietly to her friend Parvati Patil, who was giggling, and hanging over Hermione's shoulder to get a look at the package she was opening. With the room decorated in festive holly and garlands, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth and the snow falling outside the large picture window behind them, the two girls looked like a cheery Norman Rockwell painting, the kind one brought out in early December, for Christmas.

Ron's scowl deepened as her looked at the package Hermione was struggling to open. He knew who it was from, all too well. Only last year the Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker Vicktor Krum had visited Hogwarts, and had been rather smitten with Hermione, to say the least. Though Hermione denied that there were any romantic feelings between the two of them, Ron was doubtful. He remembered her face when Krum's large brown owl had swooped over her that morning at breakfast, and deposited the parcel importantly in her lap. She had refused to open it at the table, (for some reason she liked to keep her relationship with Krum discreet) but Ron could swear that she had been smiling happily all day. The look was something of a paradox to him. It made him both oddly happy and intensely jealous.

Part of this jealousy was of Hermione, and that she could be friendly with Krum and he could not. A much, much larger part, however, was of Krum, and that she could look at him in that sense, and never at Ron. The happiness came from an idiot part of him that rejoiced every time she smiled.

Ron liked Hermione, to say the least. He liked her a lot.

He watched, glowering, as she and Parvati pulled a colourful Christmas card out of the package. Tiny lights played around its edges, and it sang a Bulgarian Christmas carol when opened. Hermione grinned happily as she removed a delicate bracelet from the box that accompanied the card; a tiny ruby charm dangled off it, glinting in the firelight. Though he couldn't see what the charm was, he didn't need much of an imagination to guess. How much had Krum paid for that thing? That was another thing Ron despised about him. He was rich. How was Ron, who got next to no pocket money, supposed to compete with a Quidditch champion and Triwidard competitor?

Another thing that irritated him was how little he could find to say to Hermione. He could stage easy, flowing conversation in his head, and know just what to say to her, but the moment they came face to face, his brain would seize up, and something moronic would pop out. By the time he had closed his mouth, he looked like a fool. Though Hermione had never said anything about his buffoonism, he was fairly sure that she thought her was an idiot.

Don't kid yourself, Ron thought to himself. You've been starting to think you're an idiot, so she's not the only one! This insanity of his was beginning to edge on less-than-normal. Definitely the work of one complex jinx or another, and Draco Malfoy was almost certainly behind it. He looked back and glared at his homework.

"What's up?" came a voice behind him. Ron jumped, spilling his homework all over the floor. Hermione looked up at him and laughed.

"Damn it, Harry!" he hissed at his friend. Harry had managed to sneak up and sit down without Ron's noticing. "Don't you make noise?"

Harry lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "I didn't make any less noise than usual, as far as I know. Since when does Divination intrigue you to a point where you don't notice when your friend walks up, sits down and unloads his homework under your nose?

Ron, his ears burning, leaned over to retrieve his books. "I wasn't thinking about Divination," he mumbled without thinking, then mentally kicked himself. Idiot!

Harry held Ron's bag open for him to put his books in. "What were you thinking of, then? Oh forget it!" he said quickly, seeing his friend's venomous look. "Want to give me a hand with this damned homework?"

"Not especially," Ron muttered. "You know I'm blanker than you at this rubbish." He doodled a dragonfly on a corner of his parchment, gave it glasses and labeled it "Professor Trelawney". Harry noticed the drawing and laughed. He took the sheet, added a crystal ball with a skull-and-crossbones hovering in the middle, and drew a speech bubble beside the dragonfly that said "Death, my dears, DEATH!!!". Ron couldn't help but laugh at the doodle, and his bad mood faded.

"I can't believe Trelawney gave us homework over the holidays," Harry complained. "Is that her idea of a Christmas present?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "At least its something remotely logical," he replied dryly. "I was expecting something along the lines of 'Decode the following causes of death: 1.a) decapitation b) suffocation c) drowning d) heart attack. Now decide which one applies to you!' " He scribbled an equation on a spare sheet of parchment, and crossed out several planets on his star chart. Frowning at the sheet, he said, "Hmm. Would you look at that? My chart has given me a happy prediction." He double-checked his sheet and his textbook. " 'Good fortune comes your way'. Isn't that cheesy? I must have screwed up somewhere."

Harry examined the chart and equations. "Looks OK to me." He shrugged. "That won't sit too well with Trelawney. She'll likely say you completely blew it and you're actually going to be attacked by a nest of baby dragons and burned to death by their over-protective mother." He returned the sheet. "Go figure."

Ron copied the description from his textbook onto the back of his star chart. He sighed and put his books away, happy to be finished, happy to be finished, and leaned back in his chair. "Either I've gone mad," he told his friend. "Or Christmas this year is going to be better than usual."

'

Hermione smiled to herself and replaced Vicktor's bracelet into the box. Parvati had gotten up to talk to her friend Lavender Brown. They were giggling together, and she had no doubt that Parvati had told Lavender the Hermione had been sent and extensive love letter and an engagement ring, or something thereof. She rolled her eyes and looked down at the photograph that had accompanied the card. He and his new girlfriend, Greta, waved up at her. Hermione grinned back at them as Greta pulled Vicktor into the frame and kissed him. She put the picture away and packed it and the box into her backpack. Shouldering the heavy bag, Hermione waded through the students to Ron and Harry, trying to flatten her thick hair as she did so.

The boys were bent over a complicated-looking star chart, talking quietly. "Hey," she said. "Don't tell me you have homework."

Ron looked up sharply, and Hermione was afraid for a moment that she'd said something wrong. But he just muttered, "Trelawney," and turned back to help Harry. Hermione could feel her ears turn red under her hair. Why, why, why couldn't she find anything to say to him?

Harry looked up at her and grinned. "I was expecting you to say that homework was good for us, and then complain that you don't have any."

Hermione sighed and fell into a chair beside him. "I have loads," she assured him. "More than even I would call beneficial." She pulled a roll of parchment and a quill out of her bag and opened a thick book behind them. "Professor Vector decided to give us five pages of work over Christmas, the old codger." She scribbled a complicated equation on her sheet. "His excuse is that the O.W.L.s are coming up and we need to be prepared."

Ron looked up at her, a grin on his face. "Wasn't that your theory last year?" he teased her. "Or have you gone and changed your mind?"

"Crap!" she replied, crossing out a fouled-up paragraph, the blushed, realizing what she had said. "Not you! I messed up! And even I don't like to have this much to do, especially at Christmas!" She threw down her quill and glared at her Arithmany book. "Damned stuff."

Ron laughed, then stopped abruptly and bent again over Harry's homework. Hermione pushed her hair around her burning ears, for once grateful of its bulk to hide them.

"What's that you're working on?" she asked tentatively. "Astronomy?"

Harry made a face at his sheet. "I wish. Its Divination." He scribbled a messy equation on a sheet of parchment. "It's really too bad we can't drop subjects, you know, I can think of several I want to get rid of." He flipped through his textbook. "Damn. Look at that. Looks like I'm in danger of dragon death, Ron, not you. I'll have to stay away from them this month, I think." He wrote the description on the back of his sheet and sat back. "Honestly, if one of her conscious predictions comes true…" He trailed off, and looked at Ron, who was trying hard not to laugh.

"Don't go near Hagrid, Harry," Ron advised him. "He's got a thing for dragons, and you know it."

Harry pulled a face at his friend. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Ronald, dragons are illegal, and you know it!" He got up and stretched. "I think I'll hit the sack."

Upon seeing Harry leave, Ron turned bright red and mumbled something like, "sleepy," and followed him quickly.

"Ron!" Hermione called, blushing. "Your books!" She held out his bag to him, and he took it, his fingers brushing her hand. He refused to look her in the eyes, but mumbled, "thanks," and raced back to the boy's tower. Hermione sighed and looked at the big grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the room. 11:00. She sighed, gathered her books, and climbed the stairs to the girls' dorms.

'

Ron glared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Idiot! He berated himself. Idiot, idiot, idiot! Couldn't find a single useful thing to say to her all night! He brushed his teeth viciously. Couldn't talk about homework, couldn't talk about Christmas, couldn't even complain about Snape from the sake of God! He spat his toothpaste contemptuously in the sink. She'll really think you're cool, now!

Harry stuck his head in through the door. "Are you OK?" he inquired. "You've been in there for a while. Something bothering you?"

"Nothing!" Ron snapped, shoving his toothbrush violently into the drawer and slamming it.

"Did the homework upset you that much?" Harry asked, puzzled. "You're done, now. What're you mad about?"

Ron pushed past his friend through the door, and pulled a tee shirt over his head. "I'm just in a bad mood," he growled. "Don't bug me!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't press his friend. Ron scowled at Harry's retreating back as he glowered to himself. Everything seemed to irritate him, from the sound of water splashing in the bathroom, to the idiot wreaths that hung on the doors, to the sound of Seamus Finnigan snoring in the next room. He got up and started to slam the door to his and Harry's room.

"Hey, watch it!" He had almost slammed it right in Harry's face. "I hate to press you, but you really seem to have something bothering you!"

Ron was so tired he didn't even attempt to make a comeback. Instead, he let Harry in and kicked the door shut behind him, scowling. "Did you see what she got in the post this morning?"

"Who, Hermione?" Harry frowned. "Yeah, that package from Krum. So what?"

Harry was obviously not very observant. Ron changed tactics. "Ever notice that whenever I'm around her I act like a moron?"

Harry pulled a shirt over his head and flopped on his bed. "Come to think of it, yes," he replied. "And only around her. What's up?"

For a world-famous hero, he is extremely thick! Ron thought, trying to suffocate himself in his pillow. He sighed and turned over. "Get a brain, Harry," he snapped. "Don't you remember what a fool you used to act like around Cho Chang?"

Harry rolled over and grinned at his friend. "You don't mean to tell me-"

"Don't push it!" Ron growled. "Or I'll deck you in the morning!" He pulled the covers over his head and blew out the lamp. "Good night!"

'

Early the next morning, the very girl that was causing Ron to be such a grouch, stood in the shower. She let the water pound her hair and shoulders. On a normal day, she would have preferred a bath, but on this day she thought she ought to use the massage attachment and beat some sense into herself.

Through the sound of the water, Hermione heard Ron's sister, Ginny, her friend, pounding on the door. "You trying to drown yourself in there, Hermione?" she shouted. "Quit mooning over Ron and get dressed, we have to be ready to go to Hogsmead in fifteen minutes!"

Hermione cursed under her breath and turned off the shower. She stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself, shivering at the coldness of the bathroom. Sticking her head out the door, she yelled at Ginny to grab her clothes for her.

"Here." Ginny shoved the skirt, stockings, sweater and shirt into her friend's hand. "Hop to it, everyone's starting to leave!"

Hermione wrapped her dripping hair up into a towel and got dressed quickly, tugging clothes over stick wet spots. She dumped her jammies and old towel down the laundry chute and scooted down the hall to her and Ginny's room. Parking herself in front of the mirror, she attacked her hair with a stout comb.

Ginny came up behind her and gently moved Hermione's hands out of the way. She whispered a word, tapped her friend's hair with her wand, and it immediately became dry, combed and flat. "How on Earth did you do that?" Hermione demanded. "If I had known how to do that, I would have ages ago!"

Ginny, fingers flying, braided two tiny plaits near the front of Hermione's head, then pulled them back around like a halo. "Tell you later," she said. "Grab your purse, let's go!"

Hermione scooped up her purse and raced down the hall after her friend. They scrambled down the stairs to the common room, and barreled straight into Ron, who was waiting for them. He caught Hermione as she fell the last few steps. Ginny sailed past the two of them, to land in a heap at the bottom.

"Thanks so much for your help," she grumbled to her brother, who seemed to have forgotten about her. Hermione's arms were braced against his shoulders, his around her waist. She didn't seem to remember that one foot was on a step three above where it should be, the other hanging on mid air. Indeed, they both seemed to have forgotten about everything.

"Hellooo?" Ginny caroled, climbing to her feet. Ron and Hermione both turned bright red and let go of each other.

"Sorry," said Hermione, straightening her skirt.

"Sorry," said Ron, jamming his hands into his pockets. He bent down to help Ginny clean up the contents of her spilled handbag.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly. "He said he was coming, didn't he?"

Ron looked up at her, blushing. "Said he didn't feel well," he mumbled. "Don't ask me why."

Hermione felt the colour drain from her face. The three of them were going to go to the Three Broomsticks for lunch together, without Ginny. If Harry wasn't going, it was going to be just her and Ron, and she was sure to say something dumb. She turned and strode up the stairs to the boys' tower. "That's what he thinks!"

"Hermione!" Ron's desperate yet amused voice reached her ears. "You can't go up there!"

"Try and stop me!" she yelled back down. She scanned the doorplates quickly. "Longbottom & Creevy", "Finnigan & Thomas"… Ah, there it was. "Potter & Weasley". She kicked the door open.

"Ron?" A very healthy-looking Harry was sitting at his desk, reading. He looked up at Hermione with mild surprise, as if he'd almost expected her. "Since when are you allowed up here?"

"I don't care!" she hissed at him. "What do you think you're doing, pretending to be sick? You think I want to go to Hogsmead just me and Ron? I'll make a fool of myself!" Harry knew what she felt about Ron.

"Huh?" He looked puzzled. "Oh, uh…" He coughed feebly. "I'm sick." He grinned at her.

Hermione glared at him. "I'll just bet you are! You get up, now, and come with us!"

Harry's grin just widened. "I don't want to go," he told her. "It might do you some good to spend some time alone together." He winked at her. "I have my reasons."

"Bah!" Hermione cried, exasperated. She stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

'

Ron watched Hermione walk gingerly back down the stairs. She reminded him of an offended cat. Upon seeing Ron, she looked away. Great, he thought bitterly. She hates me. She needs Harry to keep her company. He scowled, and led Ginny towards the portrait hole, Hermione on their heels.

"He's not even sick," Hermione announced suddenly. "He just isn't going."

"What?!" Ron spun around. "That-" he stopped himself and changed his mind. "Er… idiot." He looked up again to see that Hermione was giggling at him. She has a beautiful smile, that voice in his head told him. For a moment he just grinned back at her.

He realized that he had been still a moment more than normal, and blushed as red as his hair, looking away. Letting the girls pass him, he followed them through the many corridors and passages to the massive Great Hall, where the students had started to walk down the road to Hogsmead. He fell into step between the two girls. The cold December air hit him like a slap in the face, but he soon adapted. The sky had cleared since the night before, and the sun was just starting to come up over the glittering snow. The happy calm of the morning stole over his brain and wiped out all his nervousness. Who cares if I look like an idiot? he thought. I'm going to tell her today. Before the sun sets, she's going to know what I feel about her. He repeated this to himself, over and over the whole way to Hogsmead, and every time he said it, he gained confidence. By the time the students got to the heavily decorated Village Gates, it was etched into his consciousness.

When they reached Zonko's Joke Shop, Ginny said that she had to leave, and walked away with a pack of her fourth-year friends. Luckily, Ron and Hermione were rescued by Fred and George, Ron's clownish brothers, before either of them could do anything dumb. The four of them wandered around the store, laughing at some of the new products (toe-zapping bed warmers and a new line of fake wands, among others) and tried not to touch anything that looked explosive. Ron watched Hermione as she laughed at the twins or scolded them, and he tried to come up with a way to tell her. They left the store and he felt no farther ahead than he had been when they left Hogwarts, and some of the anxiety was starting to creep back into his system. He shook his head to clear it.

Upon leaving Zonko's, they were bowled over by the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, his girlfriend, Katie Bell, and her friends, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Fred offered Angelina his arm with a bow, and George to Alicia.

"We've got a date set up at the Three Broomsticks," Fred informed them. "Like to join us?"

"Why?" Ron asked. "Are you falling apart?"

George reached over and tweaked his brother's nose. "Don't be cheeky," he scolded mockingly. "Or, if you must, at least use an original joke. Are you coming or not?"

Ron looked at Hermione, who was blushing furiously. She cleared her throat and squeaked, "Sure." The two of them fell into step behind the seventh-years.

The Three Broomsticks was packed with students. Ron looked around for a free table, and saw that all the tables and chairs had been pushed away and stacked neatly against the wall. He glanced suspiciously at Fred, who grinned and gestured to a notice that was tacked to the door. It read:

Pre-Christmas Dance

Saturday, December 15^th

2:00-5:00 pm

Three Broomsticks Pub

2:00 pm? Ron looked down at his watch. Sure enough, it said two o'clock. Had they been wandering around that long? Hermione's ears were a nice shade of red, he noticed. Parvati, who was already there, waved Hermione over to their group. Grateful, Ron went and sat down in one of the tall chairs by the counter, watching her dance with her friends. She's beautiful, he thought, smiling inwardly. Why is it so hard to talk to her? He noticed that they were playing a Muggle song. He listened to the lyrics. How appropriate…

"This intoxication thrills me

I only pray it doesn't kill me" *

Ron shook his head and stood up. Now or never, he told himself. He walked over to Hermione's group, trying not to look like too much of a buffoon. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he called her over to him. Giggling, her friends pushed her in his direction.

By this time, Ron's face was roughly the colour of a tomato, and Hermione's wasn't much better. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and finally asked, "Hermione, will you dance with me?"

Hermione went from red to white alarmingly fast, and for a horrible moment Ron thought she'd refuse. But Parvati leaned over and whispered something in her ear, which must have been good, because she looked up at Ron timidly and squeaked, "OK." He took her hand and walked with her onto the dance floor.

I must have stalled for a long time, Ron thought suddenly, realizing that the Muggle song was over and that another, slower Muggle song was playing. Carefully, he pulled Hermione closer, marveling at his good luck. He felt Hermione's arms slip around his neck, her head lean on the base of his throat. He rested his chin on the top of her head. The music was hypnotic. They turned slowly, without talking. Tell her! he shouted at himself. Tell her, now, before the music stops! But he was afraid that if he said anything, he would break the spell. Tell her, the voice hissed. Quick, the song's almost through, now, now, NOW!

"Hermione," he began, but his voice caught in his throat. He coughed and tried again. "Hermione, I…"

But the song was finished. He let go of Hermione, who was blushing again. She looked up at him, mumbled an apology, and walked quickly over to and out of the door. Ron sighed and slid back into his seat at the counter. He watched the couples dancing, watched Fred kiss Angelina during another slow song, song after song, dance after dance, all through a haze. You were so close! he yelled at himself, over and over. So very, very close! He moped for some time, until the brief silence between songs was cut by a scream. Hermione's scream.

'

5 minutes earlier…

Hermione hurried past her friends and out the door. That was dumb, she told herself. Dumb, dumb, and dumb! She flopped against the side of the building beside the pub, in the space between the two buildings. He started to tell you something, and you ran! Idiot! She massaged her temples, trying to work up the courage to go back inside.

"Well, if it isn't Granger the Mudblood," came a snide voice from around the corner. "All alone and forlorn!" She spun to face a sneering Draco Malfoy, who was standing at the corner of the pub.

"Did you get dumped already?" he asked, mock-sympathetically. "Poor little thing. Or did you even have a date in the first place?"

Hermione shot him a sour look. "Go suffocate yourself in a snowbank, Malfoy."

"Getting rid of me so fast?" he demanded, pouting. "I'm devastated." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Say, where's the Weasel? Thought I'd find him with you, but I guess I didn't, did I? Too poor to come, was he? Couldn't bear to see all the expensive trinkets?"

Hermione's eyes flashed. "You keep your mouth off Ron!" she said harshly.

"I could say the same thing to you, but with a different context," Malfoy spat. "You're hot for him." He grinned evilly. "I know what you want to do! So how far has he gotten?"

Hermione scooped up a handful of dirty snow and hurled it furiously at him. "He got a Hell of a lot closer than you ever will!" she snapped. "And at least his father works for a living! What was that you said your father did? Sit around the mansion all day? Maybe count his Galleons once or twice a month?"

That did it. Malfoy's snapped with anger as he advanced on her. "You'll pay for that one, Mudblood!" He grabbed the collar of her jacket and shoved her against the side of the building. She screamed as his ring left a painful scratch on her neck. "I don't care how smart you are!" Malfoy spat. "Brains are no match for pure-blood magic! Your family is all Muggles, and they're all losers, you hear me? Probably all ugly, too, if they spawned you! That hair of yours makes all the bushes jealous! And your teeth, man, you must drive all the rabbits wild! Too bad Weasley isn't a rabbit, eh? Wouldn't that just be-"

"How about letting her go, Malfoy?" There was Ron, standing at the edge of the alley, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall. His voice was a growl, low in his throat, every word snapping through the air like a whip. "I can see that money is no match for manners, 'cause you're no gentleman, are you?"

Malfoy let go of Hermione's collar and she sat down hard in the snow, tears of shame running down her face. Why couldn't Ron have shown up ten seconds later? By that time, Malfoy would have changed tactics, and he wouldn't have had to hear what he heard.

"Get lost, Weasley," Malfoy hissed. "This isn't your fight."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Well, it's not Hermione's either, is it? But you still see it fit to include her!" He started to walk slowly towards Malfoy, his steps tiny with barely contained rage. "Why should you leave me out? I'm hurt!"

Malfoy ground his fist into his palm. "You'll hurt even more if you come any closer. Sticking up for your girlfriend, are you? How sweet." He smiled tightly. "Don't have very high standards, have you? I mean, look at her…" He jerked his head towards Hermione, who was sitting in the snow, watching the scene through a blur of tears. My face is probably all red and splotchy, she thought. Perfect.

But Ron wasn't paying attention. He walked faster and finally stopped inches away from his nemesis. He took a deep breath, then wound up and punched Malfoy square in the nose.

Malfoy crumpled, holing his nose, which was bleeding furiously. Ron grabbed his collar and hauled him to his feet, holding him so that Malfoy's face was only inches from his own.

"Don't you ever, ever speak to her like that!" Ron hissed. "If I hear you talk about her like that again, I'll hit you so hard you won't be able to see straight for weeks! I'll sock you so hard you won't wake up until next semester!" He ran off a long list of threats, getting angrier and angrier, and finally let Malfoy go. "Pinch it!" he barked at him, meaning his nose. "And get out of my sight!" Malfoy pinched his nose, and scuttled out of the alley. Hermione leaned over and buried her head in her arms.

She heard as Ron wiped his hands off in the snow, and kicked the wall, muttering darkly. She listened until he started to repeat himself, then tried to bring herself to think about something else. Some witch you are! she berated herself. Couldn't stand up to an intolerant little Slytherin prat, no, no, had to scream like a wimp and wait for your knight in shining armour to come and rescue you. You're lucky he came, too. She shook her head behind her arms, trying to cut off the fresh supply of tears that had begun to flow.

Strong hands pried her arms away from her face, and Hermione opened her eyes to Ron's angry face. His eyes were still blazing and snapping, but they softened for her. "If he ever speaks to you like that again, you let me know," he whispered fiercely. "I'll hit him so hard it'll make his vile little Slytherin ancestors dizzy!" He spat in the snow. "The little bastard's lucky the Cruciatus curse is illegal, or I'd have on his back before you can say-" He stopped and looked intently at Hermione. "Hey, are you OK?" He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face to reveal the scrape on her neck. "Did his ring cut you?" He touched the cut, his fingers gentle in contrast to his angry face, and she winced. "It doesn't look bad…" He licked his finger and rubbed the blood away, but didn't take his hand away from her face.

"You didn't take him seriously, did you?" Ron asked gently. "Don't listen to him if he says you're ugly, OK? He's dating Pansy Parkinson, so his standards can't be too high." His eyes searched Hermione's face, and wiped her tears away with a thumb. "You hear me? He's full of it. He doesn't know what he's talking about, Hermione. You're a great witch and you're smart and you have just as much right to be here as anyone." He was looking at her so intently that she shifted nervously. "You're anything but ugly, Hermione," he said quietly. "Don't you listen to him, Hermione, you're beautiful-" He stopped abruptly, realizing what he had said, and blushed. "I mean…"

Hermione was crying again, and she didn't quite know why, this time. One of her hands brushed Ron's, and he held it. He swallowed hard and gently pulled her to her feet.

"Just say what you're trying to," Hermione whispered. "Nothing will scare me or make me mad, I promise." She hurriedly wiped away her tears, and opened her eyes to see that Ron's face was just inches away from her own. His hand still hadn't mover from her face, and he let go of her hand to slowly put one arm around her waist. Her eyes closed on their own, and Ron closed the space between them and kissed her.

Nothing in the world could have prepared Hermione for that. She didn't hear or say anything, but was fiercely aware of any place she and Ron touched, from his hand, still on her face, to his hand on her back to her own arms braced against his chest, so she could feel his heart beating against her hand. He was holding her like she was made of a fairy's wing, barely touching her, as if she would tear if he was at all forceful with her. Without knowing what she was doing, she slipped her arms up around his neck and tremblingly returned his gentle kiss. She felt a tiny loose lock of his red hair between her fingers, and vaguely noticed that a few people had stuck their heads into the alley, drawn by the commotion, only to stop and quiet themselves, and take in the scene before them. She thought she could feel a tiny sensation of emotion emanating from Ron, in a way she couldn't quite place. He loves you, a voice in her head told her. And you love him, too, admit it!

Finally, Ron gently took his mouth away, and Hermione opened her eyes to his worried face. "That about sums it up," he whispered hoarsely. "Maybe I should have warned you…"

Hermione gave her head a small shake. "You could have warned me a thousand times and not prepared me," she whispered. "I swear to God, that was the last thing I expected."

Ron laughed quietly, then looked around, finally noticing the crowd of their interested-looking friends, which had gathered around. He let go of her and jammed his hands into his pockets, turning red. "I- um…"

Hermione looked around at the sea of grinning faces. Ginny was standing with her friends, and winked. Almost right next to her, was Harry, who was supposed to be sick, back at the castle. He noticed her looking at him, elaborately sneezed, and stared at the sky, whistling innocently, then looked back at her and grinned evilly. She narrowed her eyes and made a threatening gesture at him, making a mental note to kill him before the end of the day. He merely grinned at her.

Hermione looked back at Ron, and he grinned at her. "I've been meaning to ask you," he said bashfully. "Will you go to the Christmas ball with me?"

She couldn't help it. She laughed and tweaked his nose. "Of course I will, you ninny!"

"Ow!" Ron rubbed his nose tenderly. "Is that any way to treat your rescuer?" He put his arms around her waist and drew her closer.

Hermione slipped her arms around Ron's neck and leaned against his shoulder. "Maybe not." He lifted her head and kissed her again, deeper this time. So distracted was she, as her heart fluttered happily and her stomach did flip-flops, that she didn't even notice as the crowd around them began to clap and cheer.

'

The Beginning

Author's Note: Well, I'll admit that my story is extremely cheesy. Everyone needs a bit of cheesy-ness in their life, though, or they go mad. I usually only like romance if it is accompanied by violence and weird, dark plots. (Though not too much, or you end up with a soap opera!) So you say, "Then why did you write this friggen' story?! There's no weird and dark plots in this!!!!" Well, this is only the beginning of a long and twisted saga that revolves around Ron and Hermione.

Just you wait…

Interested? Intrigued? Or do you lust like my writing?? Then check out "The Healer", the new series from Pink 'n Green!

*The song lyrics are from "The Best Thing" by Savage Garden, from the album Affirmation

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story except for Greta, Krum's girlfriend. Just so long as we have that straight.