This is a five-chapter story about the first Christmas after Ron and Hermione got together in Those Four Last Days of the War. If you had read this story, you already know what it is about. If you didn't, this story can be enjoyed separately. You just need to know that this happens during sixth year, and that the argument between Ginny and Ron never took place in this universe, so Ron and Hermione went together to Slughorn's party.
If, after reading this, you want to read TFLDotW, bear in mind that that story is not like this one. TFLDotW is a story full of angst, mystery and intrigue, and some of you may not be able to read all of it. In fact, you may get shocked about the things that happened a few months after what I tell here.
This chapter is, basically, chapter 10 of TFLDotW with some extensions.
Thanks to ObsessedRHShipper who kindly read this and corrected some mistakes.
Chapter 1
Slughorn's Christmas Party
Hermione was feeling completely un-Hermione-like. And it wasn't because the reflection in the mirror that stared back at her looked different from her usual self, as she was wearing her dress robes and her hair was a little sleeker. No, she felt different because of the giddiness inside her. Feeling giddy was not something she was accustomed to. After all, she wasn't a typical girl, was she? She didn't read Witch Weekly, didn't gossip and most of the time she didn't care about how she looked. Okay, she knew she wasn't an ugly girl. She had discovered during the Yule Ball that she was a decent-looking girl, and perhaps could qualify as, dare she say, pretty. But she cared about her looks much less than, for example, Lavender. She knew that there were much more important things in life, like having a good heart, cleverness, friendship, bravery and doing what was right. She wanted to be appreciated for who she was on the inside, and not for how she was on the outside.
And she knew that Ron liked her for who she was, and that was one of the things she loved about him.
Of course, Ron was also a sixteen-year-old boy and he could be pretty stupid sometimes, especially around Veelas or Madam Rosmerta. And during those times, when he looked at other pretty girls, she couldn't help getting irrationally jealous. It was irrational because she knew she was pretty too, but basically, she didn't want Ron to look at her the way he looked at those other women.
No matter how much she wanted to be the only girl that Ron looked at, she didn't want him to notice her for just her looks and body. She adored when Ron stared at her in awe for something she had done, or for something she had discovered or planned. When he looked at her that way, he made her feel things that no one else could.
She knew Ron was not the most mature boy of his age; that was for sure! So, she had waited years for the appropriate moment when they could — perhaps — take a step further in their relationship and become something more than friends. She had hoped, when the Yule Ball had been announced back in their fourth year, that he would ask her to go with him. That day, when Professor McGonagall had informed them about the Ball, she had found herself thinking about with whom she wanted to go. And a mere second later, the answer had bubbled inside her head; the answer took the form of her very first visit to Hogsmeade. On that day, they both went there together, and had had one of the best times of their lives. On that day Ron had made her laugh so much, he had patiently listened to her explain things about the village's history, and he had told her a lot of things about the Wizarding World she didn't know yet. On that day they had had their first butterbeer together, had enjoyed tasting the many sweets Honeydukes offered, had visited the Shrieking Shack and the Post Office ... and had enjoyed each other's company immensely.
Yes, she had wanted Ron to ask her- the same Ron that had once defeated a troll with a charm she had taught him- the same Ron that had spent a day vomiting slugs for her. And for a few days, she had let herself hope, even dream, about going to the ball with him, dancing with him, and laughing, and joking ... and, perhaps, even kissing him at the end of the night ... But her dream had shattered to pieces the moment she had discovered that he had other ideas. And just like the insensitive prat he sometimes was, he only wanted to go with the prettiest girl that would have him. The fact that she was his friend, or that they could have so much fun together when they were not bickering — and sometimes, even when they were bickering — seemed to mean nothing to him. That revelation had been an unexpected blow to her, so she had stormed off to her room, so sad and hurt that she had almost cried.
But in the end, she had accepted that fact. Ron didn't have, after all, to like her in that way. If he did want to go with some pretty, brainless girl, well, it was his choice. Was she a bit sad? Yes, she was. Hermione felt that sometimes they complemented each other so perfectly that it was as if they were, dare she say, meant to be. Not that she believed in destiny, divination or such rubbish, but —
So, when Viktor Krum had asked her to go with him, she had accepted without hesitation. And even now, two years later, she was glad she had said yes, because Viktor had made her feel truly beautiful, in every sense of the word, for the first time in her life. He had chosen her when half of the girls in the school were literally throwing themselves at him. He had seen her, the real her, for who she was, and not for how many hours she spent in front of the mirror to look more beautiful. He wanted to go to the ball with someone that could appreciate him for him, not for how famous he was. And she wanted to go with someone that valued her personality more than how sensually she could bat her eyelashes. She had understood perfectly what he wanted, and he had made her feel ... adequate.
And when, a few days after, Ron had asked her — if what he had done could be called asking — she had felt only the slightest regret for accepting Viktor's offer. She had even felt a little pleased by the fact that Ron was enduring the agony of not finding a date. She had wanted Ron to ask her because he really wanted to go with her, not because he hadn't been able to find another date. After all, she had some pride and dignity.
In the end, she really expected that she could spend time with him and Harry at the Ball, as they had always shared everything, and have fun. Viktor was, after all, Ron's idol; surely they could get along well. And perhaps he would comprehend his mistake and, after he had matured a bit, something could happen between them.
But, of course, things hadn't worked out as she had planned. During the few days before the Ball, he had been asking her who her date was with an almost obsessive interest that she had secretly enjoyed. However, the night of the Ball...
The night of the Ball had been a disaster in that aspect.
She was very nervous, as she had never dressed like that before, and she had to admit that she looked pretty. And Viktor, very gallantly, had told her so when they had met in the Entrance Hall. But the shock of the night had been the expression on Ron's face. Incredulity first, and fury after that.
At first, she had not understood him when he had accused her of 'fraternising with the enemy.' Wasn't Viktor Krum his idol? Wasn't he, Ron, the one who was always talking about him and trying to get his autograph? And after all of that there he was, accusing her of horrible things, making her feel as if she wasn't good enough for a boy to like her simply for her. He had made her feel so furious, so hurt that for a moment she had wanted nothing more than to disappear and forget that she had ever met a boy named Ronald Weasley. But, after thinking about it for a bit, she had decided she wasn't going to let him spoil her night. Viktor had proven to be a very good partner; besides being a good dancer, he was eager to speak and to hear about everything. And so she had left Ron and Harry and had gone back to him, and the two had had a lot of fun. And in the end, she had even let him kiss her; she had let him give her her first kiss, and she had enjoyed it. He had been gentle at first, and then a bit more passionate. It had been a good kiss, yes. However, while she was kissing him, she had realised that something wasn't right.
Because Viktor, with his chivalry, his kindness and his devotion for her — yes, he had shown her absolute devotion during the night — simply was not Ron.
And when the Ball had finished, and she was walking towards the Gryffindor Tower, that thought had kept turning around in her head; she hadn't known how to feel about it, because Viktor had been wonderful, and Ron had been an insensitive prat. But, she had realised the fact was that she liked that insensitive prat, because he could made her laugh and relax like no one else, like that wonderful day in Hogsmeade, and in the next instant he could drive her absolutely mad, like when they had had the row about Crookshanks and Scabbers. He was the only one who could provoke such intense and sometimes opposite feelings in her. And, above all, she knew, as she had discovered the year before during the time they had been angry at each other, that she could not be happy if Ron was not in her life.
And suddenly, as she was approaching the Portrait of the Fat Lady with those thoughts in her mind, everything had made sense in her head: the incredulity in Ron's face after seeing her, the sudden despising of Viktor, and the fact that he had not given any attention to Padma Patil during the night. Certainly, she had found that detail strange when she had gone to sit with them; after all, wasn't she what Ron wanted? Going with the prettiest girl he could get? And positively, Padma Patil was pretty. Why wasn't he paying attention to her, like that drooling, dim wit Roger Davies was doing to Fleur Delacour? But then the row had started and everything else had been banished from her mind. Now, however, everything was perfectly clear.
Ron was jealous. Jealous of Viktor Krum.
The realisation had made her feel a bit weak in the knees. Because if Ron really was jealous, that meant that he fancied her. A smile had appeared on her lips at the thought, only to be replaced, after a second, by a scowl. Yes, Ron was jealous ... he wanted her to be with him. But he had realised that only when he had seen her dressed like this, with her hair shiny and make-up on, and that was not what she wanted. Deep inside her, she knew that her looks were not the only reason, because Padma was as pretty as her, if not more, and Ron hadn't paid any attention to her at all, but that was not enough for Hermione.
However, the bottom line was that he, Ron, quite possibly liked her, and if he really, really did ... then she was willing to wait for him.
And with that thought she had stepped into the Common Room, and suddenly Ron was yelling at her again, and she at him. And finally she had realised that Ron didn't really know he was jealous, so she had told him to ask her before anyone else next time, and had gone to bed, sighing. Then she had taken off her beautiful dress robes and had lied down in bed curled underneath the blankets, cursing him, but, at the same time, wishing for him to mature, to understand, and to realise what could happen between them, and hoping that it was worth all this. And something, inside her, had told her that it would be...
And now, after so much time, after so much wait ... she was feeling that the moment had finally come. It had not been easy, of course, having those unrequited feelings, and searching for clues that indicated that Ron was, at last, understanding what was happening between them, but she was a patient girl, wasn't she? And so she had waited.
And the first clue, after a long time, had been the Christmas present he had bought her last year: perfume, not a book or some boxes of sweets, but perfume... a gift for a girl. After opening it, she had felt a bit embarrassed, because she had got him a homework planner, like Harry's. That had been an awful mistake, because she needed for Ron to see that, to her, he was not like Harry. Harry was her best friend, like a brother. Ron was ... something more.
After that, things had not progressed much further. Or, at least, there hadn't been sudden changes. Nevertheless, somehow, they had gotten closer...slowly, but definitely closer. They even shared a 'moment' when she had woken up, in the hospital wing, after the skirmish at the Ministry. So in the end, after summer, after seeing how Ron had gotten jealous about her comments about Harry's attractiveness to girls, and after seeing how Lavender Brown had tried to get Ron's attention without success, she had taken things into her own hands and had asked him to Slughorn's Christmas Party.
And tonight was the night...the moment she had been awaiting for the last few weeks. Exhaling a heavy breath, she exited the bathroom and crossed the room towards her bed to put on her shoes. Parvati, who was reading a book, smiled at her.
"You look great, Hermione," she complimented her. Hermione grinned gratefully at her roommate, and saw Lavender scowling. Hermione didn't mind. Lavender fancied Ron, and Ron was going to the party with her, so it was logical that she would be angry. Not that she really cared. Ron certainly could do much better than Lavender, who, in her opinion, was shallow and not very clever, to say the least.
Hermione left her room and climbed down the stairs leading to the Common Room to find Ron sitting on one of the armchairs, chatting with Dean and Seamus. He was wearing the new dark blue dress robes Fred and George had bought him, and, in her eyes, he looked incredibly handsome in them.
"I'm ready," she said a bit uncertainly, stopping close to his armchair and smiling nervously at him. He turned his head, startled, and stared at her for almost half a minute, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Hermione's nervousness grew and her smile faltered.
"You look — amazing, Hermione," he said finally, and smiled at her.
Hermione's grin widened again and the nervousness faded almost completely. "You look great, too."
He returned the smile, looking a bit relieved, and, after saying goodbye to the others, they exited the Common Room.
"And where is Harry?" asked Hermione.
"He went to meet Luna. He said they'll see us later in Slughorn's office."
"Okay."
They reached the office and went inside. Hermione noticed that it had been magically enlarged, and a lot of Christmas decorations had been put around it. There were tables full of food and drinks, and a lot of people had already arrived and were chatting in groups all around the place. Hermione turned towards Ron and saw him staring around at everything. He looked a bit nervous.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked him, a bit concerned.
"Yeah," Ron said. "It's — I didn't expect anything like this. Who are all these people?"
"Some old students of Slughorn, I assu—" Hermione proceeded to answer, but was interrupted by the voice of the party host.
"Ms. Granger! Welcome, welcome! Oh, I see you've brought Mr Weeby with you. Wonderful!" Slughorn greeted them, patting Hermione on her right shoulder. Hermione saw Ron scowling at Slughorn, but the professor didn't seem to notice. "I have to introduce you to Barnabus Goodburn; he is a high-ranking official in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. You said you were interested in that area, didn't you?" he asked, dragging Hermione along with him and ignoring Ron completely.
"Eh, yes, I —" She didn't know what to do. Ron's scowl had intensified, but now he also looked disappointed and sad.
"You go. I'll bring us a pair of butterbeers, okay?" he told her, walking away.
"Charming," beamed Slughorn, dragging her towards a medium sized bald man with a greyish beard. "Hey, Barnabus! I want you to meet Ms Granger here. Quite possibly one of the most talented witches I've ever seen!"
Hermione smiled and talked a bit to Mr Goodburn. After a few minutes, Slughorn insisted on introducing her to another Ministry official, this time from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and, afterwards, to the president of the Nimbus Broomsticks and Quidditch Supplies Company. Hermione tried to be kind and polite, but she was starting to get tired and irritated. Ron had not come back and she didn't know where he was.
Finally, Slughorn saw Harry and Luna and, smiling broadly, let her go and went to greet his favourite student. Hermione sighed in relief, smiled and waved at Harry and Luna and then began to search for Ron amongst the crowd.
At last, he spotted him in a corner, alone, leaning against the wall, with an almost empty bottle of butterbeer in his hands. He didn't look happy.
"You're here!" she exclaimed as she reached the corner in which he was. "I thought you were going to bring me a butterbeer."
Ron passed her a bottle and took a new sip from his, without saying a word.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning. "Why didn't you come back to me?"
"Well, I didn't want to be in your way," Ron muttered, looking at her seriously.
Hermione didn't understand anything.
"What do you mean?"
"Slughorn wanted to introduce you to all those important people, didn't he? They want to meet you, and I suppose they would love to meet Harry too. Not me. After all, Slughorn doesn't even remember my name, and I've been in his classes for four months now." He stopped talking and then looked at the floor. "Perhaps you should have come with someone else," he added sadly. "You could have asked Harry, or McLaggen. Then Slughorn could introduce you together and —"
"Stop," she ordered, her voice adopting a dangerous tone. Now she was getting angry. Ron raised his eyes and stared at her.
"What?"
"You — You — How can you be so daft?" she asked, almost livid.
Ron's disappointed expression turned into one of annoyance.
"I don't know," he said sarcastically. "Maybe that's why —"
"Shut up!" she ordered, trying — with difficulty — not to raise her voice. "Do you — do you really think that I care about what Slughorn or the other people here think about you? Is that what you think, Ron?" she demanded angrily.
Ron's mouth twitched, but he didn't say anything.
"Do you think I wanted to come here with Harry?"
"Well, you said he had never been more fanciable, and with what he had endured last year and all that —" he began to explain.
And then Hermione finally figured out what the problem was. Insecurity. The feeling of inadequacy. She understood it perfectly, because she had had to cope with it herself. Sometimes, she still had to. And she knew that, if she and Ron were going to be a couple someday, this was an issue she had to solve once and for all.
"Come with me," she said to him, taking another two butterbeers. Ron looked a bit bewildered, but followed her anyway.
Hermione moved through the crowded room to where Harry and Luna stood. Luna was talking to Professor Trelawney.
"Hi, Harry, Luna," saluted Hermione.
"Hi, Hermione, Ron," Harry said, smiling at them with relief. Hermione saw Harry's gaze travelling between her and Ron, and his smile faded. "Is everything okay, Ron? You seem a bit off."
"Yeah, wonderful," responded Ron a bit coldly.
Harry furrowed his brow in confusion and looked at Hermione questioningly. "What —?"
"We'll talk later, okay? See you," Hermione told him before Harry could say anything more. She grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him to a secluded and quiet place in one of the corners of the room, leaving an astonished Harry behind them.
"What are we doing here?" Ron asked, more confused than ever by Hermione's actions.
"Let's sum this up," she said, ignoring Ron's question. "You think I fancy Harry?" she asked, crossing her arms defiantly.
"Er, no," Ron muttered, suddenly shy. "I mean —"
"Exactly! I don't fancy Harry! If I wanted to come with Harry, I would have asked Harry. But I didn't, did I? I asked you," she said, poking him hard in the chest with her index finger.
"Yeah, because I was the only one who wasn't invited and — ugh, Hermione!" he yelled in pain, because she had punched him in the ribs. "What was that for?"
"Because you were going to say something more stupid than the things you usually say!"
Ron was beginning to get angry. "So, now I'm daft and stupid?"
"YES! Sometimes, you are!" she exclaimed fiercely. "Tell me, Ron, were you going to say that I invited you because I felt pity for you? Was that what you were going to say?"
Ron's ears reddened, but his gaze was defiant. "Yes."
"Listen to me, Ron Weasley, never, ever in my whole life have I felt pity for you! Do you understand me? I asked you to come because I WANTED to come with you, because I thought we could have fun, and enjoy the party! But, you know, I'm beginning to think that I was wrong, because I'm not having any fun at all." Ron didn't say anything for a moment and Hermione continued. "I don't care about what Slughorn, or any other person in the world, thinks about you, Ron! The only thing that matters is what I think about you. And yes, I said Harry was fanciable! And he is, just like you are!"
Ron's mouth opened in surprise at her last words. "You think I'm fanciable?"
"Yes, you stupid prat! You're tall, and brave; you're noble, and kind, and you are a very good friend! I find those qualities fanciable!"
"You never said anything like that to me before, Hermione," Ron said, sad but also a bit pleased. His ears were still as red as his hair. "You know, you got all excited when you knew Harry had spoken to Slughorn about you. And when I told you that I also thought you were the best in our year, you shushed me. How was I supposed to know —?"
Hermione's expression softened, and she exhaled a sigh. "I know. Perhaps that is my fault. I didn't know you were still so insecure, Ron. I thought ... I thought you knew."
"Well, you said I'm daft, didn't you?" he said with a sad smile.
"Ron, I don't care about the fact that Slughorn didn't invite you to join the Slug Club. It's a really stupid thing, you know ... He doesn't value the things that matter the most. I mean, McLaggen and Zabini are members, aren't they? And what have they done? But you, you beat Professor McGonagall's Chess game, Ron. When you were twelve, you sacrificed yourself so Harry and I could go on to protect the Philosopher's Stone. And the next year, you went to the Chamber of Secrets, and faced Acromantulas ... and I don't remember it well," she continued, with an ironic tone, "but weren't you the one that stood up to Sirius Black, a supposed mass murderer, telling him he would have to kill you and me to get Harry? Go, Ron, and ask Harry if he would have preferred to have Zabini or McLaggen, or any other person at his side on those occasions! And last year you went to the Department of Mysteries, and you fought Death Eaters. Don't you understand, Ron? You're as brave as Harry is! You have always been a bit jealous of him. I always knew and I understood it, but for Heaven's sake, it's time for you to get over that! Don't you realise, Ron, that sometimes is Harry the one who is jealous of you?"
"Of me?" asked Ron in disbelief.
"Yes, of you!" she affirmed. "He has fame, and money, and is the 'Chosen One.' And what? You have a loving family, and no one points at you everywhere you go. Harry would love that! But you already know it, don't you, because you were with him when he looked at that mirror. The thing Harry has always wanted the most is what you have always had." Ron smiled at her almost imperceptibly. "And when we came to Hogwarts, it was me who was jealous of you both, especially you, because you weren't great at classes, but you had your brothers here, and both of you had a friend, while I had none of that. I felt so alone and inadequate here, Ron ..." she confessed, and she felt her eyes water a little.
"Inadequate? You?" asked Ron, dumbfounded by her confession. "You must be mental. You're the best —"
"Yes, inadequate!" she cut in. "That's why I pushed myself so hard, to be the best and to demonstrate to everyone that I belonged here. But, in the end, I had no more friends than in my old school. That evening, on Halloween, when I was in the bathroom, crying because of the things you had said to me, I was thinking about writing to my parents and leaving Hogwarts," she confessed. Ron opened his mouth in great astonishment. "But then the troll appeared and you two came for me. And Harry threw himself at that monster, and you correctly performed the Hover Charm, the charm I had explained to you, and saved me, and we became friends." She stared intensely at him through her wet eyes. "And that night is still one of my best memories, the one I used the first time I invoked a Patronus."
"Hermione, I'm so sorry for that, for the horrible things I said to you. I — I never knew," said Ron apologetically. Slowly, he raised one of his hands and wiped a lonely tear from her face.
"I am not sorry," replied Hermione with a sob, closing her eyes at the gentle contact of his thumb. "We became friends that day and even with everything we've faced, I'd never change what happened. You're one of the most important people in my life, Ron, along with Harry and my parents. You're not less than Harry and me. You gave us both a family in the Wizarding World. Harry needs you so badly. He was miserable when you were not talking during fourth year. And I was miserable, too, when we were not on speaking terms that time after Scabbers disappeared in our third year."
Ron was speechless, gaping at her like a fish, his ears bright red. "I — I don't know what to say, Hermione. I — I just — sometimes I just think I'm not worthy of you —"
"Stop it!" she bellowed, shaking him by his shoulders. "You don't have to decide who's worthy of me! That's my choice; do you understand? Didn't I tell you already how much Harry and I need you, and how many great things you have done? Do you remember how many great things the three of us have done together?"
"Yes, you did tell me. And I do remember," he nodded. "I see your point."
"Then tell me, Ron. Why? Why is it so important for you to get noticed by other people?"
"It isn't," Ron said in a low voice. "I mean, I like it when I get the attention, that's true, because you know, my house is full of people, and you have to do something very unusual to get noticed above the others. But in the end, the only person I wanted to hear those things from was you, Hermione. You have been the only one I've wanted to impress for a long time. I convinced myself that if everyone else was impressed by me, you'd be as well and you'd notice me more. I — I simply needed you to believe in me."
"And I do!" she affirmed wholeheartedly, "I've always believed in you, Ron. You were the one that didn't believe in yourself. I know I've never told you all of this, because — because ... Well, I didn't want other people to know that — that —" she stopped, shaking her head for a moment and dropping her gaze before locking her eyes with his again. "But you don't have to do anything to be worthy of me, you already are. I don't need other people to realise and to pinpoint to me how great you are, because I've realised that a long time ago," she explained passionately. Then she paused for a moment and added "the only thing that you had to do to be with me was to notice me."
"I —" began to say Ron, but he got interrupted by Filch, who entered in the room dragging an angry Draco Malfoy with him. Both Ron and Hermione watched the word exchange between Draco, Slughorn and Filch until Snape left the party with a displeased Malfoy. Hermione turned her face again towards Ron. "You were saying?"
"I was going to say that I did notice you, Hermione. I know that sometimes I'm thick, and daft, like you said. But I notice you. In the Yule Ball you were ..." He shook his head, his voice tailing away.
Hermione sighed. "Yes, you are daft and thick, but at times you're also brilliant. And you're loyal, and you can always make me laugh, and loosen up a bit. I like you for the way you are, Ron, with your faults and virtues. They make you, you. You know, that time when we went to Hogsmeade alone? That's another of my best memories," she confessed, blushing slightly.
Ron's ears turned red like Hermione's cheeks and he smiled at her as she continued, "And the Yule Ball ... You know that I wanted you to ask me, don't you?"
"Well, I think that I realised it at some point."
"You hurt me, Ron, when you told me you wanted to go with the prettiest girl available."
"And you went with Krum." It wasn't an accusation.
"I did. And I don't regret it. I enjoyed myself, and he was very kind and gentle. He didn't care about what I looked like. He liked the fact that him being an International Quidditch player didn't matter to me at all. He liked me for me."
"You looked beautiful that night," he blurted. "Not that other days you aren't!" he added, trying to explain himself. "I mean —"
Hermione smiled. "I didn't want you to notice me for my looks."
"I know. And I don't. Really, Hermione. I mean, seeing you there, with your dress robes, your sleek hair and all that was like a slap in my face. But I'll tell you a secret," he bent towards her and whispered, "I like you a lot better carrying a lot of books, and with your hair the way it usually is. It's ... more like you. I simply wasn't aware of that fact at that time."
Hermione blushed even more, and had to look away from his eyes. Something inside her was soaring with delight.
"Not that I mind seeing you like this," added Ron. "You look really stunning. And I am glad you asked me to come."
"I'm glad you came, Ron," she replied, raising her gaze and staring intensely into his dazzling blue eyes. "And once and for all, to settle this: I don't want you to be Harry, nor Krum, nor anyone else. I like you. You!"
"I like you too, Hermione. I've never told you as much as I should, but I would be lost without you. I wouldn't have even passed my OWLs. Bloody hell, probably Harry and I wouldn't even be alive! You've been so important to us, Hermione — to me. You have never been inadequate. Never. In fact, I don't think there has ever been anyone who deserved to be at Hogwarts more than you do."
Hermione beamed, and that thing that was soaring inside her began to roar with happiness.
"So —" she began.
"So —" he started.
And then she could not hold herself back any longer. It has been too long, so she threw herself at him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him with all her heart and soul. And a glorious instant later, he was embracing her tightly, pressing her against him, and kissing her back. It wasn't a kiss from someone with plenty of experience, unlike Viktor's; instead it was tentative and hesitant. But it was from Ron, her Ron; it was a kiss full of tenderness and care and passion, and that was all she needed in the world.
After almost two minutes, they separated their mouths for much needed air. Ron had a dazed expression of pure happiness etched upon his face, and Hermione knew that she probably had a similar one on hers.
"Whoa!" said Ron, grinning broadly, his arms still around Hermione, as hers were around his neck. "For a first kiss, I daresay it was ... bloody brilliant."
Hermione blushed and looked down, towards his chest. "Ron, after everything we've said, I don't want more secrets or misunderstandings between us, so I have to tell you this." She forced herself to look directly into his eyes, feeling a bit nervous. "My first kiss was with Viktor."
"Oh," Ron said dejectedly, breaking their eye contact, his radiant grin suddenly gone. The pressure of his arms around her slackened a bit, and she could tell that he was trying to conceal his disappointment and anger. "Well — Was he —? I mean —" he stuttered before realising what he was asking. When he did, he shut his mouth and looked away, embarrassed, waiting for her to say something.
"It was different," she answered sincerely. "I'm not going to tell you that I didn't enjoy it when he kissed me..." Ron released her completely, and she felt suddenly cold. "He is older, you know, and more experienced, so it was good. But that doesn't matter, Ron, because when he was kissing me, I knew it for sure."
"You knew what?" he asked sharply, looking at her again.
"That no matter how well he kissed, or how kind or gentle he was, he wasn't you. The kiss with Viktor was fine, Ron, yes. But the kiss we just shared means everything to me."
Ron didn't say anything for an entire minute, and then, when Hermione was almost dying with anxiety, he hugged her again, tightly, and whispered directly to her ear, "It means everything to me too."
And again, she felt that same feeling...the feeling of giddiness and of happiness, a feeling that told her that she was living the happiest moment of her life. Then Ron was snogging her again, with all his passion and all his heart. One of his hands was on the small of her back, his other hand was caressing her hair, and every cell of her body was yelling with delight, because after all her waiting, all the misunderstandings, all the bickering and rowing, Ron was hers, and she was his.
At last.
When they parted, both flushed and panting heavily, but very happy, she stared, mesmerised, at the radiant grin on Ron's face.
"Can I assume you're my girlfriend now, then?" he asked.
She felt exhilarated at the words. My girlfriend. MY girlfriend. She was Ron's girlfriend now ... or was she? She tried to erase the smile from her face and put a thoughtful expression in its place.
"Well, I don't remember you asking," she answered. Ron's smiled vanished instantly.
"Oh, come on! You're not going to make me ask, are you? We've kissed! Twice!"
"People can kiss without becoming a couple," she argued.
"But you admitted you love me!" he replied vehemently.
"I did no such thing!" she responded, a bit taken aback.
He sighed, gazed at her for a while and then smiled again. "Okay, okay, you win," he said, defeated. "Hermione, do you — do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asked, his voice fading away so that when he uttered the last word it was barely audible.
"I have to think about it."
His eyes became the size of saucers. "WHAT!"
She couldn't help it, and began to laugh at the face he was making. "I was joking, Ron. Of course, I want to be your girlfriend."
He sighed, a bit relieved, and then scowled. "You know you have the worst timing ever when it comes to jokes, don't you? That is not a nice thing to say to a bloke who has popped the question!" he scolded her.
"Don't be so melodramatic," she said, smiling lovingly at him. "You're acting as if you had asked me to marry you."
His ears turned red and he looked at the floor, embarrassed. She couldn't help it and caressed his cheek. "Well, since you're my boyfriend now, are you going to dance with me?"
He raised his gaze and looked into her eyes, grinning. "Well, I can try," he said. "But I'm not the best partner there is when it comes to dancing —"
"Don't worry," she told him, taking his hand in hers. "I don't expect you to be Fred Astaire."
"Who?" asked Ron, frowning at her.
"A Muggle dancer," she answered, "a very famous one."
"What do you mean, 'a dancer?'" he asked, even more confused. "You've said it as if his job consisted of dancing."
"The job of a dancer does consist of dancing, Ron," she explained patiently.
"There are Muggle people who earn money just dancing?" he asked, astonished.
"There are. And some of them, like in the case of Fred Astaire, earn a lot. Really, Ron," she added, "you should take Muggle Studies."
"Hermione," he scolded, as he dragged her to where other couples were dancing, "so far, this night is promising to be the best one in my life; don't ruin it."
They stopped in the midst of the crowd. The song that was being played was a slow one, so she put his hands on her waist and she put hers around his neck. She looked into his eyes, and noticed, surprised, that he was not looking at her, but at some point behind her left shoulder. He was frowning.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"Where has Harry gone?" he said. "Luna's there, alone, speaking to Trelawney."
Hermione took her arms off Ron's neck and turned her head. She scowled. "He'd better not have left her here all alone!"
"Harry wouldn't do that," said Ron.
Hermione walked towards Luna, and Ron followed her.
"Luna, where's Harry?" she asked the other girl.
"Oh, he said he had to go to the bathroom," Luna answered dreamily. "Although that was a bit ago ..." Her expression became thoughtful, and then she opened her eyes widely in realisation. "Oh, no! I hope he hasn't swallowed a Nargle without realising! The castle is full of them, what with all this mistletoe hanging from the ceilings! Eating a Nargle makes visits to the loo longer, you know, because they do funny things in your stomach," she explained, completely serious.
"Eh — okay," Hermione said, grimacing and trying not to think about the nasty images Luna's words had conjured. "Fine, then. Er — see you later."
She turned round again quickly and she and Ron walked back to their previous spot. Ron was trying, unsuccessfully, not to laugh.
"It wasn't funny," she said, frowning.
"Of course, it was," replied Ron, and started laughing loudly before putting his hands back on her waist. "'Swallowed a Nargle', 'longer visits to the loo' ..." He laughed again. "She's great, Luna."
"Oh, let me forget she said that," she pleaded, slapping him on one arm before putting her arms around his neck again.
Ron stopped laughing and simply stared at her, a happy grin on his face. She returned it.
"This feels great," he confessed, squeezing her waist and pulling her closer to him.
"Yeah, it does," she agreed, and let him control the movement while she enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms.
They danced two more songs, almost oblivious to everything else, and then Ron stopped.
"Harry's back," he said to Hermione, and she followed his gaze. Effectively, Harry was there, beside Luna, and was watching them. He seemed a bit upset, and Hermione became nervous. She took Ron's left hand in her right one and they parted. Harry said something to Luna and walked towards them.
"You're back," Ron said to him. "Where did you go?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then he glanced at their intertwined hands and seemed to change his mind. "Er — are you two —?" he began to ask, a bit awkwardly.
"Oh!" said Ron, and looked down at their hands, too. "Er ... yes, we are," he answered, blushing.
Hermione watched Harry attentively. "Harry, are you — are you okay with this?" she asked nervously. "I mean, with Ron and me being — being ... together?"
"Eh? Ah, yes, yes, it's fine," he said, flushing a little. "It's more than fine; it's great, actually. Brilliant, even," he added, a bit nervous. "Well, as long as you don't start snogging in front of me, of course ..."
"We won't," assured Hermione. Harry smiled at them and they returned the gesture. "Then what's the matter?" she asked. "You were gone for quite a long time and you seem upset."
"It's —" he began to say, but then he seemed to change his mind. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Just enjoy the party, okay?"
"Harry, are you sure you're all right?" Hermione insisted. "If it's important, you can tell us."
"I'll tell you tomorrow," he repeated. "Don't worry, Hermione, seriously."
Hermione wanted to nag him, but Ron stopped her. "Drop it," he advised her. "He said he will tell us tomorrow."
"Yeah. Eh ... I'll let you dance, then," he added, looking awkward again. "I — I think I'll fetch two butterbeers for me and Luna, yes. See you later," he said, and vanished among the crowd.
"Well, that went rather well," Ron commented.
"It was awkward," Hermione replied. "Very awkward. Do you think he is really okay with this?" she asked Ron, seeking reassurance. "I hope he doesn't think we'll leave him alone."
"Nah, he said it was fine with him. I reckon that it was something else that upset him...maybe Malfoy. He's becoming a bit obsessed with the git."
"What if it was his scar?" she asked, the idea hitting her suddenly. "What if he saw something, something awful?"
"He said it had stopped," Ron replied, thinking about it. "And I didn't hear him having one of those nightmares since last year."
"Well, I suppose we'll have to wait until tomorrow to know what it is," sighed Hermione. "Meanwhile," she added, putting her arms around his neck again, "you could show me a bit more of your dancing skills."
He laughed. "I think I've already showed you all of those. But I think I might have some snogging skills I didn't show you yet," he said suggestively.
"Oh, you think?" she replied in a slightly mocking tone. "And how is that, if I am the first girl you've snogged?"
"Well, I imagined snogging you a lot. I might have developed some amazing techniques during those imaginary sessions."
"Oh, I'm sure," she said, smiling. "Well, show me, then, and let's judge whether they're amazing or not."
He did, and she had to admit that, if his techniques weren't amazing, they certainly were quite close to it.
As this chapter is short and some of you have already read part of it, I'll publish chapter 2 tomorrow. See you!