OKAY. So, I haven't written in a while, obviously. I've been doing the college thing. I was home for a weekend, and found this story in a notebook from high school, but I have absolutely no recollection of writing it. SO I decided to type it up and give you something! This story is dated 7/23/2008, when I was 15. (Also, this is the author formerly known as ronhermione4eva2314. I decided it was a little too 13 year old ish, so I changed it.) ENJOY!

It was dark and quiet, except for the sounds of the fire crackling in the grate. It was peaceful, and yet no sleep came to Hermione Granger. She kept on flashing back to the wedding reception earlier that day.

"It is so nice to see you here, Herm-own-ninny," Victor said.

"Well, I -" Hermion started.

"Care to dance?" Ron interrupted, glaring at Victor.

"What? I - oh...Yes."

Dancing with Ron had been the most amazing experience. He was actually a great dancer, Hermione had been pleasantly surprised to learn. He was so gentle when he held her, almost as though he thought he might break her if he held on too tightly. He was also so sweet that he apologized every time Hermione stepped on his feet. And then the patronus had come, and the dream had been shattered. It was silly of her to have thought that they would be granted just one night of peace and happiness before returning to a war mentality. Grimmauld Place had seemed the most logical place to go for the time being; the Order had protected it well enough.

Hermione looked over the edge of the couch cushions and saw Ron lying on the floor. His eyes were open and he was looking up at her.

"Hermione?" He asked softly. "Is everything alright?"

She wanted desperately to say, "Yes." However, both redhead and brunette knew it wasn't so.

"It's starting, isn't it?" She asked.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Ron replied, drawing himself up onto the couch beside her. He sat looking at her for a moment, and then focused on the fire that his friend seemed to be staring so intently at. Suddenly, Ron heard a stifled sob from his left. He turned his head and saw tears running down Hermione's beautiful face.

"Oh, no," He thought in alarm. "Bloody hell. Why does she have to start crying?I never know what to do when she starts crying."

"Wait," the more logical part of his brain said calmly. "Think of Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, Chapter 8: Giving Comfort in Times of Crisis. Ron remembered; there had been a list of things to do when a witch started sobbing hysterically. He tried to recall the list.

Step One: Put an arm around her shoulders to show support and open yourself for a hug.

Hesitantly, Ron reached over and rested his very long arm on Hermione's quivering shoulder. She looked at his, her eyes shining with tears. She was still so beautiful, even when she was crying. Ron tried to remember the rest of the tips on comforting witches, but with her looking at him with those depthless eyes of hers, he couldn't recall a single one. Instead, he looked ahead at the fire again and said, quite lamely,

"So, erm, what's up?

"Nice one, Weasley. She's sure to throw herself at you in a fit of passion any day now."

"I'm scared. Things are starting to get bad - really bad - and I don't know if I'm strong enough to handle it."

"Hermione," Ron turned toward her, gazing into her eyes once again. "You can handle it. What about what happened before we came to Grimmauld Place?"

"Muggle men catcalling me on the street is one thing, Ron, but-,"

"I wasn't talking about that," Ron cut in, preferring not to think about those men yelling to Hermione like she was some kind of whore. The memory of it mad his blood boil.

"I was talking about before, at the wedding. When we got the news that the Deatheaters were on their way, people panicked, but not you. You gathered the three of us together right away," He gestured over to the lump of blankets on the other side of the room that were Harry. "You had a plan all ready. You were completely prepared. You can handle this stuff, Hermione. It's me that hasn't got what it takes."

Hermione turned her head to look quizzically at her companion. He was already staring back into the depths of the fire. She could see the dancing flames reflected twice in each of Ron's eyes.

"I can't keep my bloody nerves under control for something as trivial as a sodding Quidditch match. How am I supposed to handle fighting You-Know-Who and his followers?"

"Ron," Hermione started, but Ron hurriedly continued, as though once he had started, he couldn't stop all of his thoughts from pouring out.

"-and then of course there's you. I could hardly stand being around you for so much time at school-,"

"What?!"

"-so how can I be expected to handle being around you for God only knows how long searching for these Horcrux things, when the only thing I can think about every time I look at you is how much I want to kiss you-,"

"Kiss me?" Hermione interjected, taken aback by this sudden revelation.

"Oh, good God, thank you," Ron replied instantly, before he leaned in. For a moment, the kiss was sweet, gentle even. But, as what was happening caught up with the two teenagers' brains, the sweetness dissolved like sugar in tea. Ron's hands moved of their own accord, one cupping Hermione's cheek, the other coming to rest deeply embedded in her wild mane of hair. It was much softer than it looked, he almost couldn't believe how silky smooth it felt against his fingers.

Hermione, never one to give up control in any situation, was putting up a very good fight against Ron's experienced lips. She had both hands fastened around his neck, with her fingertips gently playing with the ends of his hair. Every now an then, she would sigh softly against Ron's mouth, doing things to his body that he couldn't even describe.

They broke apart, each gasping for air. In time, Hermione finally regained the ability to speak.

"When I said, 'Kiss me,' it wasn't an invitation, but I'm glad you took it that way." The pair of them laughed softly, resting their foreheads together while they basked in the moment. After a moment, Ron's face became serious once again.

"So, where does that leave us?" He asked, moving his hand to rest on top of Hermione's, and watched as her small fingers intertwined with his own larger ones.

"I'm not sure if we should tell Harry just yet," she replied quietly. They both cast lloks over at the blanketed lump once more.

"I was just thinking that," Ron sighed in agreement. Hermione nodded, and then let out a long yawn.

"I think we should probably go to sleep," Ron said through a grin. Before he returned to his blanket on the floor, he leaned in for just one more sweet kiss. He didn't know when he would be able to do so again, and couldn't stand the memory of that first passionate kiss being the only one he had to get him through the coming months.

"Still, I want you to know that, if you ever need me, I'll be there in a heartbeat," he said, before returning to his mess of blankets on the floor next to the couch. The pair laid in silence for a few minutes.

"Ron?" Hermione's voice cut through the darkness, interrupting the fire's crackling rhythm. He cast his eyes over in her direction, and saw that her arm was outstretched.

"I need you."

He smiled, although she couldn't see it.

"Okay." Ron took Hermione's hand in his own, pulled it closer to him, and lightly brushed his lips across the back of it. They stayed like that for a long time. Finally, Hermione's hand went limp, and her breathing became deep and steady. As sleep started to overtake him, he thought about what has happened between the two of them tonight.

"She needs me."

He felt a glow of happiness well up inside of him at that glorious thought, and then the wonderful drapery of sleep rolled over him, blocking all else from his mind.

Hope you all enjoyed this one. I hope to be able to start writing new stories more often, but in between moving, working, and taking a college senior class load, I'm not sure how well that plan will go, haha. I'll try. Thanks for reading, and please review, so I can improve the quality of my work :)