Toothflossing Stringmints

Summary: RW/HG. Ron is fascinated by Hermione's particular fondness for good dental hygiene. Ron's POV. One-shot. Hogwarts and beyond. Quite fluffy I suppose.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. They belong to JK Rowling. The only thing I own here is the plot.

Truth be told, the first thing that Ron Weasley had really noticed about Hermione Granger on the Hogwarts Express (aside from her bushy brown hair and know-it-all attitude of course) had been her teeth. Even though they'd been overly large (some might say slightly 'buck-toothed') in the first couple of years at Hogwarts, they were still exceptionally white. Almost gleaming. He found that he constantly wondered why.

Intitially, Ron had suspected some kind of charm, a spell that she had cast to ensure their eternal whiteness, then he had found out her secret: not only were her parents muggle dentists, but she had a particular predilection for not just brushing her teeth at least fifteen times a day, but for toothflossing stringmints.

Trust Hermione Granger to scoff sweets that were good for you!

Ron's mind boggled.

That was when his little fascination with Hermione Grangers mouth had really began.

Hermione liked proper sweets too of course, he soon found; she wasn't entirely humdrum when it came to her preference of candy. She liked muggle sweets he'd never even heard of that seemed really exotic to him and that when they became proper friends, he was eager to try: butterscotch gums, basset's liquorice allsorts and fizzy sherbet dabs that made him wrinkle his nose at the sour taste yet dip the candy lollypop quickly back in the packet for more. Yet, she seemed to like toothflossing stringmints best of all and Fred and George brought her loads back from Honeydukes.

He watched her sometimes from behind the safe confines of his quidditch magazine, pretending to read the latest stats on the Chudley Cannons most recent dismal performance, when really he was focused on the delicate way she nibbled the candy and pulled it through her teeth as she wrote out an essay or read a textbook. She'd always lick her lips afterwards too and it was in the fourth-year when he realised that the motion of her tongue at some point had started to make his stomach feel rather wobbly.

Ron being Ron of course, merely put it down to eating too many Fizzing Whizbee's and didn't stop to ask himself why Hermione Granger's mouth was affecting him in such a peculiar way.

The questioning of his actual feelings came later. Not much later mind you, it was only after a squabble with his little sister where he learned that Hermione had snogged bloody Viktor Krum and the realisation that Hermione's potential first kiss had been with that—that prat—that he thought that quite possibly he might like more than just her teeth.

He curled up miserably on his bed that night and proceeded to plough through twenty pepper imps and a bag full of choco-balls and felt that maybe he was in trouble, and not just from the pains his stomach.

Lavender Brown didn't like sweets. Any sweets much to Ron's inconceivable horror. She was too concerned over marring her creamy complexion and her terrific fear of getting spots bothered Ron no end. He realised her eyes also didn't have that endearing way of lighting up whenever she smiled, much like Hermione's did.

Ron was more miserable than ever and he missed Hermione so badly that he went right off chocolate frogs altogether.

It was Christmas, almost two years after the Battle of Hogwarts and he and Hermione had been dancing around each other for long enough now, he thought determinedly as he paced the Burrow's living room floor with a sense of purpose. He'd been fortunate enough to kiss her once and still the taste of her was firmly etched in his senses. He had found that not only were toothflossing stringmints actually rather tasty after all but they gave the eater incredibly fresh breath. Hermione's lips had quite frankly, tasted bloody delicious, all zingy and cool.

Unbeknownst to him at this point, even Harry was getting fed up of him moping around their shared flat and brooding over Hermione; and later, he supposed it was Harry he had to thank for what finally happened. Ron had been awkwardly self-conscious around her all day. They'd exchanged presents and sat amongst the rest of the Weasley's in their fluffy jumpers, laughing and joking and that was when it had happened: Hermione had eaten another bloody stringmint.

Ron gulped, his eyes unable to leave her face as she absentmindedly spoke with his dad about muggle Christmas carols. He didn't see Harry and Ginny roll their eyes at one another, nor hear George mutter; "Merlin's balls," and snicker in exasperation. Even Charlie and Bill exchanged knowing glances. The only thing Ron was able to focus on was her mouth.

He also didn't see the quick charm cast as Harry surreptitiously flicked his wand in his direction, nor even notice the hasty way his family suddenly left the living room, casting knowing smirks at each other, making bizarre excuses for their departures.

Hermione startled him from his reverie when he realised she was talking to him and that she was suddenly the only only person in the room. He blinked dumbly wondering where his family had got to, "er... what?" he stammered, perplexed.

She was smiling though her cheeks looked flushed all of a sudden. "I said: you have a sprig of mistletoe floating over your head."

Ron looked mortified; "I do?" Bloody Harry- I'll hex him into next week if I—

"It's a muggle and a wizard tradition," Hermione informed him knowledgeably, not apparently picking up on his embarrassment and looking rather matter-of-fact about the whole predicament, "and one that I think would be prudent to honour."

"Oh," Ron squeaked, his heart thudding as loudly as an exploding bon-bon, "er, right then. I mean it is Christmas after all and--"

There was nothing matter-of-fact about their kiss however. Hermione took charge as she pressed her lips squarely to his.

Ron's senses were instantly assailed by the intoxicating essence of Hermione Jean Granger as she linked her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. His insides fizzed like sherbet and his nervous stomach swished like melted Honeydukes chocolate. Even his knees felt like rubbery sticks of liquorice all of a sudden. When he closed his eyes he felt like he'd had one too many fire whiskeys for the room was simply spinning, yet he had no intentions of pulling away. Two years he'd been waiting for this, two bloody years and every fibre of his being was telling him it was well worth it.

"You taste like chocolate frogs and sugar quills," Hermione murmured, wide-eyed when he released her at last. Her cheeks were pink and he bit his lip anxiously. He certainly hadn't been anticipating that response and the chocolate in the pit of his stomach churned. He wished he'd had some stringmints too instead of scoffing sweets all afternoon.

He looked at her worriedly then, the tips of his ears red; "is that a bad thing?"

She smiled and her eyes lit up and finally he knew that everything would be alright; "no," she said simply, pulling him close once more for another, equally satisfying kiss; "you taste just delicious."

A/N: I have an accompanying story to this from Hermione's POV which I'm just finishing and will probably post soon. Thank you for reading.