A/N My other profile has been giving me some problems, and so I am posting under a new handle. This happens in the same universe as Stranded! (which I will most probably repost eventually, but if you want a copy you can email me and I'll send it to you) and describes in more detail the kiss that Hermione remembers sharing with Ron in the common room. This happens sometime in their fifth year, and it's just a one-shot little ficlet.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR. No infringement is intended.

First Kiss

In a world where his entire existence was made easier by magic, Ron Weasley simply could not comprehend what it was that made it so difficult for him to do what millions had accomplished before him. He could face man-eating spiders and remain conscious despite his phobia of anything with eight legs, and he had a best friend who faced death at least once every year and lived to tell about it. It was easy to see that Ron didn't live a 'typical' adolescence, and it was even easier to see that despite all the troubles thrown his way, he was a well-balanced and extremely brave individual. So why then, why was it that every time he looked into her caramel eyes, every time he caught a glimpse of her perpetually disheveled hair, that he felt as if he were about to faint, as if his legs had suddenly transformed to gelatin and wouldn't hold him upright any longer?

"Am I interrupting something?" he heard behind him, and he didn't have to look at who the voice belonged to because the fact that he felt as if he would lose his lunch at any second was a big enough clue. He turned in his chair and tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible, though he was fairly certain he'd managed to make himself look more like someone who'd just sucked on a lemon than the mirror of composure he was aiming for.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, his voice harsher than he'd intended it to be. Way to go, you stupid git, you're going to make her yell at you again.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked him, as he shut his books—one of the few times he'd actually tried to study—and stood to make his way towards the portrait hole, ignoring her question. "Ron, you're being rude; I asked you a question," she yelled at his back, and if it had been physically possible to do so, Ron would have kicked his own arse if he'd known what he was about to say.

"What do you care what's wrong with me? Don't you have better things to do? I don't need the concern of someone who insists on being corrupted by a man who's practically twice her age!" he whispered under his breath though there was no doubt that she'd heard him. So this was the way he was going to die—at least it would be at the hands of the girl he'd recently realized he was completely crazy for. He practically heard her last nerve snap, and definitely heard her sharp intake of breath. He turned defiantly to face her, his breath catching in his throat when he saw her cheeks redden and her jaw clench; it was cliché, but he couldn't help but notice how cute she was when she was angry. Must be why I always go out of my way to make her hate me. You're a sick, sick man, Ronald Weasley. Taking his attention away from her eyes and cheeks, and her adorable nose, he tried to focus on what she was saying. She was apparently calling him every name in the book, and the list promised to be long as she was the biggest bookworm he knew—a trait he found incredibly endearing, but would never admit to in public.

"I can't believe you could be so selfish and self-centered like this Ronald Weasley, but then again I shouldn't be so surprised should I? It's always about you, always about what you want to do, and how doing something affects you, isn't it? Did you even for one second ask yourself what I want? Of course not, because you're only thinking about yourself!" she spat, and Ron was slightly surprised. Him, self-centered? Ordinarily he would say 'no way' but it was true that where Hermione was concerned he tended to be a bit selfish, but could he help it if he wanted her all to himself? Still, she had some cheek to be yelling at him like this, and no matter how adorable she looked with strands of hair falling into her face, and the way she was biting down on her bottom lip, or focus, dammit! You're supposed to be fighting, not drooling all over her!

"Ha! That shows how much you know! Self-centered my arse! All I ever do is support you and your crazy ideas. Who joined spew for you even though I told you from the very beginning that it was a bad idea, eh? And you call me self-centered, well that just goes to prove that you don't know me as well as you think!" he yelled at her, doing his darndest to sound as angry as he knew he would be if it were anyone other than Hermione standing in front of him.

"You are the most insufferable, incorrigible, most vile excuse for a friend I have ever met. How can you even stand there and pretend to try and support me when all you can do is criticize my decisions?" Ron was suddenly very thankful that the common room was empty, as Hermione's voice was beginning to become a little shrill from all the screaming, and was probably carrying up to the dormitories.

"Well maybe I'd be more supportive if your 'decisions' as you call them didn't involve making googley eyes at a perfect stranger who's practically twice your age!" he yelled back, knowing that it always went back to this subject; they'd been fighting about this for months, but it was something that Ron just couldn't let go of.

"There you go again, making judgements about someone you don't even know." She was saying, but Ron was too mesmerized by the movement of her lips and how he could see the very tip of her tongue protruding from her mouth as she formed the words that were no doubt meant to humble him. He caught bits and pieces of what she was saying, and heard his name spoken. "Like it or not, Ronald Weasley, Viktor Kr—" but he didn't want to hear that other name, especially uttered in the same sentence as his own, and so he did the only thing he could think of. Suddenly he forgot about being nervous, or feeling weak in the knees, and just focused on how desperately he wanted to stop her from saying that name. Before she could finish her sentence, he'd bent down and pressed his lips against her own. For a moment he thought that she would pull-away and put him in a full body bind, or turn him into a ferret, or worst, laugh in his face, but after a few dreadful seconds—dreadful, and extraordinary at the same time—he felt her lips move under his own, and felt that telltale blush creep up his cheeks. He broke-away afterwards, not knowing what to say, or do; he hadn't really meant to kiss her; sure, it was what he'd been wanting to do for an entire year, but at the same time he didn't really expect himself to go through with it. He could just feel his ears glowing, and Hermione's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Right, err," he spoke, clearing his throat when he heard himself sounding like a frog, "well, shall we go down to dinner, then?" he asked, changing the subject to food—food was always a safe topic, you couldn't go wrong with food. Hermione looked mortified, though the blush that now resided in her cheeks didn't seem to be from anger, and she nodded. Ron suspected that had she been able to speak—the kiss had most likely startled her so much, she'd lost her voice—that he'd have gotten an earful, but at the moment, he was only glad that he'd managed to end the fight, and build a memory that would remain embedded in his thoughts for a very long time. Feeling happier than he had in a long time, he held open the portrait, and they silently made their way from the common room.