Author's Note: This was originally a bunch of shorter stories that I decided to combine into one long fic since they followed each other chronologically. It takes place during 6th year.

Dash It All

"Alright. I'm almost ready," I call from behind my changing curtain, zipping up the dress that had arrived earlier by post. "Mum saved for two months and bought it specially in London so don't laugh, alright?"

"I won't laugh," Ron promises. "Why do you want me to see the silly thing anyhow?"

"Because I want a boy's opinion," I say. "Your job is to be a boy and tell me honestly what you think."

"I didn't think I was anything but a boy. Mum will be so pleased to know there are two Weasley girls now."

"You know what I mean," I say. "Friends are required to say nice things. I don't want you to think you're required."

"Well, have at it, then. I'm missing Quidditch practice."

"Ok." I smooth the material over my hips one last time before stepping from behind the curtain. "Well? What do you think?"

Ron drops the perfume bottle he's been fiddling with, mouth and eyes wide open. "H-H-H-Hermione! Wow. I didn't know...I mean...Wow. You're a grown up girl in that dress."

"We're all growing up, Ron." I blush self-consciously as I smooth the material of the dress again. "You can just tell easier on the outside for girls."

He crosses the room to take both my hands in his. "Any boy would be lucky to have you on his arm at this year's Yule Ball."

"Do you really think so?"

Ron nods, smiling. "Absolutely." He pauses a moment before realizing that the top of my head now comes to his lower lip rather than his shoulder. "Herm. You got big shoes on?"

"They're called high heels, Ronald Weasley, and yes, I do." I prove the point by lifting the hem of my dress to my knee to show off my new black heels. "I'm not very used to them yet."

He looks like he's about to crouch down to examine my feet. "Banger. They've got all sorts of straps and bells and whistles and such. Fancy. Your Mum pick those out for you too?"

"Yes. To go with the dress."

Ron takes a step back, nodding approval. "Well, as a boy, I say the second anyone catches a whiff of you in that dress, they'd be silly not to fall wildly in love with you. You'll be beatin' 'em off."

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You do know the right thing to say when it really matters most, don't you?"

He bows with mock flourish. "Mum raised us boys up right."

"Yes. I'll have to thank her next summer."

I totter uncertainly around the room in my new shoes, arms out to steady myself, before the unthinkable happens. My ankle turns and I fall right into Ron Weasley's arms.

"Oh, bugger! Oh, Ron, I'm sorry. My foot..."

He hoists me up, hands carefully under my arms, trying not to touch what he shouldn't touch. "You, ok, Herm?"

"I should be asking you that," I say. "I fell into you."

"I'm tough," he says, smiling down at me. "Takes more than that to do any damage."

I step back, feeling suddenly awkward. "Well, um, I shouldn't keep you from practice any longer. Have fun. Are we studying tonight?"

"After dinner, yeah. I'll meet you in the common room."

I nod, unbuckling my shoes to avoid any more mishaps. "Maybe I'll come down to watch the end of practice after I change."

Ron nods, mouth crooking into a half smile. "Just remember to cheer for me instead of Harry. He already has enough adoring masses."

"Alright. I'll see you there."

"Bye, 'Mione."

"Ya know, Herm, this isn't half bad," Ron says two days later, chin tilted up as we practice a waltz in my room.

I pause in my "1,2,3" counting. "You picked up the waltz well, Ron, but if you miss any more Quidditch practice, people will start to wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"Wonder what we do alone so much. In my room of all places."

He grins wickedly down at me. "Wanna give 'em a few ideas?"

"WHAT?" I squawk, stepping out of the dance position, both hands still regrettably in his, my face flaming. "Ronald Weasley, how d-dare you suggest--"

Ron sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Geez, Hermione. And you accuse me of jumping to conclusions! I only meant that, since we're doin' so much practicing for the Ball, maybe we should just dash it all and go together. Twins will wonder and probably spread loads of rumors but it might be fun to dodge them."

"For you, possibly, but who's to say I want our names linked together?"

"Oh, please," he says, shaking his head as he adjusts my mum's old record player, moving the needle back to the start of the waltz record. "People have been doin' it for years."

"But as friends," I point out. "Never as...Never as anything more. School Balls have the very real distinction of being an actual date. I hope you know what you're suggesting, Ronald Weasley."

"Why do you always do that?" he asks. "Call me Ronald Weasley like you're mum or something? You're not Mum--You're Hermione and, for your information, I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm asking my best friend to the Ball. That happens to be you. Do you wanna accept or not? It's that simple, 'Mione. Yes or No."

"Yes...I mean no...I mean...Why are you asking, Ron?"

"Because I want to," he says, leaning back against my dresser. "Cause you look real smashing in that pretty dress your mum bought and I want to be the one that people envy. I've never gotten anything but cast offs my whole life and want something that's just mine. You're mine. My best friend, I mean, and I just...I just want to show you a good time. Nothing wrong with that logic, right? Straight forward enough for even you, Miss Logic-Queen-Top-Of-Class." He shrugs again. "So, um, will ya?"

I smile, going to hug this very sweet boy--my very best friend. "Of course I will, Ron. Thank you for asking."

"I can't do this. Oh, God, Ginny, I can't do this," I panic, hand over my churning stomach, hair and dress already done up three days later the night of the Ball. "I can't do this...I'll-I'll faint or throw up, I just know it and--"

"Relax," Ginny advises, sitting on my bed looking very grown up in her green formal gown. "It's just Ron. Same old Ron you've known for years."

"No! No, this is a different Ron!" I cry, shaking my head and willing myself not to cry since it will ruin my carefully put together makeup. "This is the Ron who's brilliant plans involve snogging and-and this is the Ron who invites me to Balls and makes all sorts of overtones whether he realizes it or not. Even his body language is different around me! Harry notices, Ginny! He laughs!"

"Oh, yes, Harry finds it quite amusing," Ginny says, grinning when I forget my own worries long enough to glare sharply at her. "Well, you don't think you're the only one with a study buddy, do you? While you and Ron are off alone doing who-knows-what, Neville, Harry, and I formed a group. During breaks, we come up with lists of things you and Ickle Ronnikins could possibly be doing alone so much."

"We study...We talk..." I say. "Nothing else. I helped him practice dancing for the Ball and he-and he asked me to go. We certainly don't make a habit of snogging or-or hiding in bushes or what-have-you. Strictly friends. Purely innocent."

"'Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,'" Ginny quotes Shakespeare, grinning at my answering blush. "If you want to snog, just do it. Really, Herm, you think too much. Seems silly me encouraging you to pounce at my brother, but really I guarantee he will not put up a fight." She winks at me. "Girls have a right to be forward too. Would you have asked him to the Ball if he hadn't done it first?"

I sigh, sinking down next to her on my bed. "Truthfully? Ron's the only boy I ever wanted to ask me this year or any year."

"Tell him that."

"Oh, goodness, no," I say, fingering my necklace nervously. "I wouldn't dare. Not unless he got me very angry or snockered."

"Now there's a thought," Ginny grins. "Get someone to spike the punch and then..."

"Honesty, Ginny!" I cluck, rolling my eyes. "Let's just go downstairs so you stop making false accusations involving your brother and I. We are friends. Just that."

"Not forever!" she predicts, racing out of my room.

Ron's waiting alone at the bottom of the stairs. He grins, waving, and I relax as my hand skims the banister. He really is just the same old, silly Ron, isn't he? Nothing has changed. It's just Ron. Just Ron...

"Banger, you look bloody brilliant tonight, 'Mione," he whispers, taking my hand and shoving a half crumpled flower into my other. "Sorry. I was holding on to it a little tightly. Got a bit crumpled."

I look down at the wilting daisy in my hand. "It's perfect, Ron. Thank you."

"Thought that counts, right?" he says, raising both eyebrows at me questioning. "Where to first? Wanna dance or-or get some punch or-or just sit out a few? I have no bleedin' clue where Harry is. Told him he couldn't dance with you. You're my girl--" He blushes scarlet. "Um, well, at least for tonight."

"Let's dance," I decide. "What we practiced for, right?"

"Right," Ron agrees, leading me to the dance floor.

"New robes!" I say suddenly half-way through the dance, startling Ron and making him falter slightly in the steps. "Did your mum send these?" I ask, running a hand over the soft velvet of his moss green dress robes, feeling his heart rioting under my palm.

"No. My brothers got together and started a fund."

"That's kind of them."

He shrugs. "Christmas time and all."

"I'm glad we both have nice things to wear. It makes the-uh-night more special than it already is."

"Special?" Ron asks, eyebrows spiking up with interest. "You think dancing with me makes a night special?"

"Better than bickering," I point out. "That can become very exhausting."

"Maybe we should try to-um-bicker less?" he suggest. "I suppose we can't be completely free of it, but can stop quick if one or both of us gets-um-heated?"

"It would be nice," I sigh. "I don't mean to fight so, Ron, and I certainly don't like it. It's no way to go about with best friends."

"Exactly," he agrees. "So, do you want to try, 'Mione?" Ron pauses, chewing his bottom lip. "Try to quibble less, I mean?"

"I'll do my best if you agree to the same."

He nods. "It's settled then..." He looks over my shoulder to the staircase leading to the outdoor balcony. "Do ya wanna grab something to drink and some fresh air?"

"You get the punch, I'll...I'll wait for you up there."

Ron grins, whistling as he practically skips over to the punch table. The cold air hits me the second I enter the balcony. What was I thinking? Agreeing to go here? Everyone in school knows when people disappear to this area during Balls, it's not to just 'talk'.

Ron returns with two glasses, still whistling his tune. He stops, noticing me on the bench. "'Mione? What's wrong?"

"Just cold, I suppose," I lie, rubbing my bare arms. "What's Mum thinking sending me a sleeveless dress for December?"

"Oh, well, this will warm you up," Ron says, handing me a cup. "If I charm it, that is."

"It's fine," I answer vaguely, holding it with both hands.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, stretching his long legs out in front of him, head tilted to look at the stars. "You sound far away."

"I suppose I am," I sigh. "I'm sorry, Ron. I must not seem like very good company right now."

"You're great company," he says, turning to smile down at me. "Even when we sit here, not saying anything, it's still perfect. For me, it's just nice being with you--talking or not. Sometimes, the best times are when nothing is said at all."

"Just being near me makes you happy?" I ask, scrunching my nose up doubtfully. "You're not just saying that cause you should be nice tonight?"

"Naw, I mean it," Ron insists. "Best part of any day. Lucky for me, we see a lot of each other."

"Ginny says Harry's formed another study group since we keep abandoning him."

"Harry don't care," Ron says. "I asked him before I--" He stops suddenly, grinning and slinging an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. "There. Madam Pomfrey says the best way for two people to warm up is transfer of body heat-um-I mean, feel any better?"

"Yes. Much."

I rest my head against his shoulder. Ron takes it as a sign to tighten his arm, before bringing his other one around so they both encircled me.

"So, um, 'Mione?" he starts, voice cracking on my name--something that only happens now when he is severely nervous. "I was thinking--um, wondering really--if, um, after studying some nights, you'd wanna go eat or-or-or get some sweets or-or anything really. Just relax, ya know? Have a little fun...together...um...without...without Harry."

"Be a duo instead of a trio?"

"Right," Ron agrees, resting his head atop mine. "Nothing wrong with that, right? Just us?"

"No."

"No to what?"

"No there's nothing wrong with that," I clarify. "It might be nice to...relax."

"Great," Ron breaths and, by his tone, I can tell he's smiling. "Wanna go back to the party now?"

"We should," I say, remembering Ginny's teasing earlier. "We'll be missed."