A/N: All right, so I'll just admit right off the bat that I am a proud Draco/Hermione shipper. :P Haha, don't worry, this IS a Ron/Herm. Fic, made especially for my friend Jen, who is the queen of Ron/Hermione shippers. It's not that I don't like the ship, it's just that I think D/H is much more interesting and diverse. (Please don't shoot me!)

On another note, I would like to point out that, yes, this chapter has some naughty :P implications, and many times is the word 'panties' used, but no, this is not a sex fic, it's just, well…we all know where babies come from! Tee-hee…

As this is, not only my first canon fic, but my first R/H fic, please give me feedback and tell me what you think!

Anyways, regardless, I hope this will turn out to be a great fic, Enjoy!

Hermione Granger awoke with her head resting on the edge of a mattress, to the sound of great snoring. She shifted and her head slipped right off the bed, landing painfully on a floor. She scrunched her eyes closed and winced in pain, lifting the blanket covering her over her head so as she might somehow fall back asleep. In response, the snoring ceased temporarily and she heard a large form shift on the bed above her. She rested her head on her forearm on the rough wooden floor, wondering why did her head hurt so bloody much? She could swear it felt as if it had been trampled by hippogriffs then beat upon by Crabbe and Goyle. She poked her eyes out from under the…orange? blanket to see a very…yes definitely…orange room. Her head spun in confusion now just as much as it did in pain, as she now wondered just why she was asleep on Ron Weasley's floor.

Judging by the orangey tint of the light peeping through the orange curtains, it was still early morning. Probably not later than six o clock, she thought.

She dragged herself up and nearly collapsed on top of Ron, who was shirtless, wearing only a pair of red and gold boxers, lying spread-eagled on his bed that now lacked covers. Hermione glanced down at herself in turn. She was still wearing her dress from the night before and…heels?

She had slept in heels? Merlin, what was wrong with her?

Bill and Fleur's wedding!

Her brain finally recalled the ceremony and reception that had taken place the night before in the Weasley's backyard. Well…at least she recalled the ceremony and…most? of the reception…

She furrowed her brow in thought, ignoring her pulsing head. Had she, Hermione Granger, prefect and top student, consumed alcoholic beverages?

No…she wouldn't have!

She let out a cry of frustration as she held her head in her hands trying to remember the events of the previous night.

There had been punch.

But it definitely hadn't had anything in it that could have caused…this.

There had been Firewhiskey.

But she hadn't had any, despite Ron and the twins' insistence. Ginny had been curious, but thankfully Hermione had talked some sense into her, she was rather proud of her influence on her friend for that matter.

After dinner, she had danced with Harry first, then George. After that had been the bouquet-speaking of which, Hermione glanced around the room, locating the bunch of lilies lying on the other side of Harry's bed. Yes, she had caught the bouquet, ironic since she hadn't had a relationship of any sort since fourth year.

McLaggen had just been a red heron. A rather irritating red heron though despite.

Ginny had then grabbed her to have a heart-to-heart chat down by the pond. They had chatted about Harry, the horcruxes, and school. They talked about who would be head girl in her stead, as Hermione knew she herself was the obvious choice. They talked about the war, and whether or not they thought they would all make it out alive. And after that…

Hermione couldn't remember anything after her chat with Ginny at the pond…

Maybe she had gotten ill and passed out? And…somehow wound her way all the way up here…

Hermione glanced at Harry's unmade bed, realizing she must have slept there. Ron had probably carried her up here so she could sleep. She must have just slid off sometime in the night. Yes, that must be it. And what she was feeling now was just the remainder of her illness. Now that she thought of it, she realized it was most likely food-related. She had thought some of that French food had been sketchy…

Fleur's aunt Fanny had sat beside her at the dinner. She was obviously a paternal aunt as not an ounce of Veela was evident at all. In fact, she was rather horse-like and sported a slight mustache. Not to mention her constant drunken state. The woman had been simply horrid to endure, what with her authoritarian attitude and butchering of the English language. Anyways, she had forced her to consume some of her goat cheese pate, which she had prepared especially. Hermione remembered from her trip to France after second year, that goat cheese was very popular in France, not that she had ever been fond of it. The Fuhrer Fanny had practically shoved the cheese down her throat, she was so insistent, and Hermione was sure it was what was making her feel ill!

Hermione steadied herself on the dresser and slipped off her heels as so she could make her way down the stairs to Ginny's room safely, where her things were. She creaked open the door slowly, so as not to disturb Ginny and…Harry? Hermione knew they had been broken up but…well, you know what they say about weddings. They were cuddled on the small twin bed. She noted that they were both, thankfully, fully-clothed, and she continued on her mission to fetch a change of clothes.

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By the time Hermione had taken a showered, cleaned up, and headed downstairs to breakfast, the rest of the house was mostly awake. Mrs. Weasley was out in the garden chatting with Fleur and Gabrielle, while Fred and George snickered loudly in the corner, as usual. She was just sitting down to breakfast when Fanny sauntered down the stairs. She criticized the breakfast table with her usual remark.

"Why are there no croissants? I tell you, every day, we have the croissants, it is so unusual to eat your heavy, English food! I shall become fat by the time I leave here! At home, we French women never get fat!" And usual as well, Fanny settled for three slices of toast with jam, a large helping of eggs, five pieces of bacon, and a muffin.

Hermione had hoped to eat in silence, but, as usual within the presence of Fanny, this was not to be so.

"I tell you! You children were being so loud last night! I hear you screaming and banging around all through the night I tell you!" she yelled, sounding furious. "I couldn't get one ounce of sleep, I tell you! It is a disgrace to be so noisy! In France, our children know how to be quiet!"

Hermione answered stiffly, "Well, I assure you it wasn't me, I was quite ill last night actually."

At this mention, the twins snickered even more loudly.

Fanny frowned at her. "You, ill! That is nonsense! I saw you last night having quite the time with-"the twins interrupted her mid-sentence.

"Say, Hermione!"

"We just remembered!"

"Mum had asked to see you before!"

"So silly of us to forget!"

"Yes, oh so silly!"

"Go and see her right now, why don't you?"

"Yes, it seemed very important."

Hermione, glad to escape Fuhrer Fanny, quickly slipped out the door.

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Ron Weasley awoke slowly to his very bright room which made his head pound about ten times harder.

Well, that's Firewhiskey, for you, innit? He thought. He remembered vaguely the events of the previous night, though they were quite muddled, and, after some point, non-existent. He remembered dancing with a few of Fleur's relatives. Her cousin Janelle had been particularly amusing, and quite the snogging buddy, if he could remember correctly. He smiled fondly at the memory. She was quite pretty, with flowing blonde hair, quite like Fleur's. He had danced with her straight away, right after dinner. After the bouquet-throwing ceremony they had locked themselves up in the broom shed for a good old time. He thought he might remember dancing with Hermione later in the night. Ha, he did remember trying to get her to have some firewhiskey, but she, as always, primly refused. She'd been seventeen for almost a year for Merlin's sake! Prude…

He sat up on his bed, and realizing that the covers were strewn across the floor, swung his feet over the edge of his bed. He lagged himself to his dresser to grab a shirt and a pair of jeans. He fished through his drawer to find a fresh pair of underwear, and in the process, he dropped a pair on the ground, where it slid under his bed. He stooped to pick it up, but when he grabbed his own underpants, he noticed there was something…else stuck to them.

With disgust, he pulled an obviously female pair of yellow polka-dotted panties from his own underwear. He trudged down the stairs, shouting all the while. "Mum, stop putting Ginny's things in my room! It's revolting! Honestly!" He opened the door to her room on the next landing and chucked the panties unceremoniously into the room.

Grumbling, he went back upstairs to dress, and then to have breakfast.

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Ginny couldn't have been happier as she dozed in Harry's arms as the sun streamed through her curtains. She nuzzled into his chest, perfectly content. Though Harry had wanted to end their relationship because he insisted it put her in danger, they had made a bargain last night. Harry was to leave soon after the wedding, first to pay a visit to his muggle relatives, then to Godric's Hollow. It had been difficult to avoid each other after Dumbledore's funeral, as Harry was staying in her house. Last night, they had danced, and, realizing that she might never see Harry alive again after he left on his mission to find the horcruxes and destroy Voldemort, she had made her proposal of one last night together.

Not like that!

They hadn't really done anything, just spent the entire evening sitting in the garden talking about nothing really. Like how pretty the stars were, secrets, childhood dreams and what they had wanted to be when they grew up when they were little.

This involved Harry, of course, to explain what exactly 'Pop-Eye' was.

Afterwards, they had sat on her bed playing wizard chess and talking some more. And then they had fallen asleep…like this, above the covers with her head on his chest and his arms wrapped around her waist, chess pieces scattered about on her floor.

Ginny reminisced about the simply lovely prank she had pulled on Hermione last night, with the aid of Fred and George of course. They had invented these handy new candies called Ton-of-Tasteless-Tonic-Toffees. They contained enough substance to substantially intoxicate anyone easily, at least that's what the twins had guessed. They had said they needed a test subject, and when Hermione had dragged Ginny herself away from the Firewhiskey that evening, who better, she thought, than her prude of a friend? The twins willingly gave her a single toffee to tempt her friend with, after all, she was, and had been of age for a year now, and they agreed it was about time to loosen up their very own goody-two-shoes a bit. She had been quite comical, she remembered, nearly as bad as Ron. Ginny giggled at the memory and smirked mischievously at her accomplishment.

Unfortunately, however, her perfect moment was not to last long, as her god-awful brother barged into her room yelling something about 'disgusting' and 'ridiculous codswabble'.

Ginny noticed a yellow flying object as she peeked open one eye. She had froze, praying to Merlin that Ron would not come into her room and witness her comprising position, which would certainly result in Harry's premature death without You-Know-Who even laying a finger on him. Thankfully he had scampered off after chucking whatever it is he chucked into her room. The yelling had, unfortunately, caused Harry to stir from his peaceful sleep.

As he awoke, he smiled down at her, "Morning Ginny."

"Morning."

"What was Ron yelling about?"

"I really don't know, nor care." She sat up, glancing at the yellow object that Ron had thrown. It looked like some sort of fabric to her tired eyes. It had landed about half-way between her and Hermione's bed.

"Well, I'm going to go wash up Gin, see you downstairs." Harry said, as he slouched out of the room.

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Hermione ran into Harry just outside Ginny's room. She had run up to grab a book from her trunk to do some reading outside in the garden. Surely, if she was reading, Fanny would not disturb her any further.

"Morning Harry. Had a good night?" she asked, smirking slightly.

"Yeah," he said, smiling. Upon seeing the look on her face, however, he added, "Oh…well…nothing…I mean…we…no…"

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll see you downstairs. I'm just grabbing a book."

Hermione said good morning to Ginny, who was stretching and yawning on her bed.

"Morning Hermione. You don't happen to know what's got Ron so enraged this morning, do you?"

Hermione laughed. "Do any of us ever?"

"Mmm. You're right." She said, frowning at something on the floor. Hermione followed her gaze to a yellow pair of underwear in the middle of the floor between their beds.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Sorry, those are mine, I've no idea how they got all the way over there, my trunk's on the other side of the bed." She said, as she swept them up and plopped them in a laundry basket.

Ginny's eyes had swelled to the size of quaffles as she stared dumbly at Hermione as if she'd been hit with a body-binding curse.

As per why, Hermione had absolutely no idea.

A/N: So…

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