AN: This story was originally written for stuckwith-harry on Tumblr as a part of the Romione Secret Santa gift exchange. Thanks to Jenahid, Otterandterrier, and Honouraryweasley12 for their help! It's not my best but hey, it is proof I can write if I find the time for it (aka no writers block yay)

Christmas fell on a Monday that year. Hermione woke up slowly, lazily, relishing in the knowledge that she didn't have to hurry anywhere.

Ah, Christmas. She carefully moved her feet, checking to see if there were any gift boxes there… and sensing a few at the end of her bed. She smiled, gleeful, and sat up to start her day by discovering what she had been given.

She looked around the room as she reached for the gift closest to her, making sure Ginny was not in the room. She loved her, of course, but she relished her privacy whenever she got it; it was far too rare of a situation in recent years, what with having to share her bedroom with other two (very loud) girls at school. She always slept with Ginny when she was with the Weasleys, which was great; really, it was. But Hermione also valued her solitude, and was grateful that the one day Ginny would actually get up and get ready early was this holiday.

She sat cross-legged and began opening presents, enjoying this time by herself. Soon she was opening her fourth gift, quickly discarding the wrapping paper, ready to open the box inside. It was deep yellow, decorated with swirling, golden ivy, and hints of pastel pink illuminating the edge of the box. The leaves gently moved as if a soft breeze were playing with them.

"What…?" she mumbled as she looked inside, taking a heavy bottle from within. It was the same color as the box, with the same decorative ivy. Curious, she took off the glass stopper, noticing its elongated tip that, having been submerged in liquid, was now dripping a few drops of it.

"But this looks like…" again she whispered to herself, finishing the thought in her mind: like perfume.

Perfume?

She carefully sniffed the contents, her mind racing to try to provide answers to half-formed questions. Who would give her perfume? Why? Not her parents, of course, but then who? And it smelled so strange, like... dew, perhaps? It would make sense with the ivy decoration, but who would think that dew was a good characteristic in perfume? It was unique, of course, but… dew?

She picked up the box again, looking for a note within; she begged that the gifter had thought to add some sort of explanation. She did find one inside, a folded piece of parchment with her name on it on… in Ron's script?!

Happy Christmas, Hermione!

I hope you enjoy this gift. It may not be as practical as what I usually get for you, but I thought you'd like to see that I can, in fact, be a bit thoughtful.

Ron

Short, slightly vague, and lacking in any sort of concise answer. What was she supposed to do with that?

Unusual? What does that even mean?

Ron had found himself thinking that question multiple times during the day, often at odd times. The thing was, the thought of it was nagging him to no end. Unusual?!

He walked purposely in no direction in particular, his hands on his back, a slight huff to his breathing. He was irritated by the uncertainty of it all. He hadn't agonized for days trying to think of an appropriate gift for Hermione for her to call it unusual. He had tried to think of something that would show her he knew she was a girl; his girl-friend, which of course didn't mean he thought of her as his de-hyphenized girlfriend, only as a hyphenized girl-friend, if you needed to know...

He cleared his throat, as if he had to stop himself from getting worked up even more. If that happened, he could potentially continue his tirade out loud without realising, and that would be disastrous!

Anyway, what had she meant by that? Really, if he found her alone, if he only did, he would find a way to ask her, full subtlety of course, what she had meant by—

He hadn't really wanted to find her alone, but he had. He had found his way to the kitchen, empty now that it was late in the evening… empty except for Hermione, who appeared to be making tea. Now the question was, would he really try to figure out if she had liked his gift? Seeing her there somehow took ninety percent of his determination away from him.

"Hey, Ron!" she greeted him as she turned to leave her mug on the table. "Would you like some tea? I just made it fresh."

"Sure, thanks," he agreed, motioning her to sit down as he went to get some tea for himself.

Holding his cup carefully so as not to burn himself, he sat down next to Hermione as casually as he could. He then looked at her; she was bending down to breathe in the tea's steam. She sighed.

"You like the smell of tea?" he asked her as way of making conversation, trying to find a way to lead it to the topic that had had him wandering around aimlessly just a few minutes prior.

"Oh, yes. It's so comforting, don't you think?"

"Yeah…" he conceded, his mind blank. He didn't know what to do, or how to broach the subject, or if he should at all. Why did it matter so much to him, anyway?

"Soooo," he continued, elongating the word. "Thanks for your gift, again."

"No problem. Thanks—thanks for yours, as well."

"Did you like it?" he said, doing his best to sound as nonchalant as possible, taking the opportunity presented to get some answers.

"Yes! Yes. I told you, it definitely was— it sure was— unique, and…"

"But is that good or bad?" he asked, forgetting to sound unaffected this time.

"Oh! Well, of course it's… it's good… I just… it's so different? And, really, well… what made you pick that one?" she quickly asked, as if she were running out of air, or as if she had been trying to hold her breath back for some reason.

"What made me pick that one?!" he repeated, slightly panicked, feeling the colors on his skin change a few times until it settled on red around his ears. He knew, he had been told that's what happened to him when he was embarrassed, multiple times.

"It's… well…" he shrugged, giving up any pretense. "To be honest, I don't know. I was looking for something that… for something, and I really liked the design of the box. The lady at the shop explained that a perfume like this one would turn the scent into a happy one. She said that because it made people happy, it was one of the best-sold ones; nobody ever dislikes a happy smell. And… you know, I wanted to— to make you happy, I suppose."

"That is… so lovely, Ron," she said, her voice low. He shrugged again, his eyes fixed on his tea.

"One thing though… you said that the perfume turns the scent into a happy one? What do you mean by that?"

"You know, that it makes up a smell that makes you happy when you wear it."

He looked up at her in silence, seeing her shocked face, her eyes open wide as she realised what his answer meant. It was easy for him to figure out what was happening, as well; he could almost sense the wheels turning in her head.

"Hermione! You'd never used wizard perfume before? The final scent can only be revealed on someone's skin, and it's different for everyone! Depending on the scent and how it reacts on your skin, it can give you a short, soft rush of emotions!"

She gasped at that, almost as if in spite of herself. "I'll be right back!" she excitedly said, jumping up off her chair and running away from the kitchen and leaving her tea behind. Not three minutes had passed when she returned, slightly winded, with the bottle of perfume in her hands. She sat back on her chair, opening the box and setting it on the table, before taking the bottle out and opening it.

Ron saw her take the stopper and hold it above her wrist, letting a couple of drops fall onto her skin. Then she put the stopper back in place, and rubbed her wrists together. She brought her wrists up close to her face, and…

And her face became alight, and she seemed to breath it in for so long, like she couldn't get enough of it, and she shone with it somehow, smiling wide at him in appreciation…

And, suddenly, he knew why it had mattered so much to know what Hermione really thought of the perfume. Because girlfriend, with no hyphens, seemed so much more alluring than girl-friend with one.

"It's done! There's no more left!"

"What's that?" Ron asked her from the bedroom. He was there dressing up in his formal robes; they were getting ready for a Ministry function. She was in the bathroom, putting on the final touches to her make-up and hair.

"The perfume you gave me is done!"

"The one I gave you when we were at Grimmauld Place in fifth year? You still had it?"

"Yes, don't you notice when I wear it?" she slumped her shoulders, leaning against the counter as she held the old bottle in her hand.

"Oh, I did," Ron said, popping into the bathroom to look at her. "I just never thought it'd last you this long. It always caught me by surprise. You didn't wear it very often, did you?"

"No. I was careful; I wanted it to last. And I knew I didn't have much left, but I thought I still had enough. I don't really fancy going to the party, so I thought I'd use it so I'd cheer up… but there was nothing left! The little bit left must have evaporated since I last used it."

"Oh, love, I'm sorry," he said, getting closer to her. He then put his hands on her arms, comfortingly rubbing them up and down.

She sighed, his gesture a successful one. "Thanks for understanding. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but it's just that I've been very sensitive to smells lately, right? I thought I could use something that was comforting to me. Maybe I should say I'm very sensitive of late, and leave it at that."

She looked up at him, shrugging in self-consciousness.

"Is the nausea too bad? Do you want me to send an owl to say we're not going?"

"No, it's all right. We should go. I think I just need to get used to the idea that my perfume is done."

"I'll get you another one."

"It won't be the same! This is the first gift you ever gave me that wasn't, you know, typical."

"I know. And maybe it's weird that I had never told you before, but it was one of the scents in my Amortentia. I realised I liked you when you first smelled it on your wrists. Remember? I was so scared of what it meant to feel like that, but so proud, too, that I had gotten you the right gift for once."

She smiled, happiness filling her up naturally, no perfume needed.

"I do remember, of course, though I didn't know that was the precise moment… or that you knew with such clarity."

"We'll have more perfume. And we'll have more memories."

"I think this will be one of them."