"Ginny, have you seen Ron?"

Hermione's just gotten out of the shower and her hair's still damp, but it's getting dark and really, even though it's been months, she doesn't feel safe unless she knows exactly where Ron is.

Ginny, without stopping her climb up to her brother's room – and Harry – says over her shoulder, "He went outside a few minutes ago. Didn't look like he planned on coming in any time soon."

Hermione calls a word of thanks and dashes down the stairs, pauses to pull on the nearest jacket before heading out the back door. She has to walk a bit before she finds Ron, and when she does and looks back to the Burrow, it's to realize that they're much farther away than she'd originally thought.

He has to hear her approach, but he says nothing as the snow crunches beneath her feet. It's only when Hermione's drawn right up next to him and said, "What are you doing out here all alone?" that he gives a little jump and looks down at her with surprise and happiness and confusion written all across his face.

"What?" he says; he seems to notice the heavy coat he's got on for the first time, then that Hermione is shaking in much less layering. Immediately, he strips off that top coat and slips around her shoulders with, "Here, or you'll freeze."

She ignores this, repeating, "What are you doing out here?"

Ron stares at her for a moment, something in his clear blue eyes flickering as though he's been caught. Then he averts his gaze to the many snowy hills in the distance, sighing and shrugging.

But Hermione's learned to read him over the years, and she knows that the part of him that still has something of an inferiority complex just wanted to see whether she cares enough about him enough to follow him.

Leaning into his side and huffing a breath, she entwines their fingers. "Oh, Ron…"

He bends down to scoop up some snow in his free hand, and when he straightens up, she sees that the very corners of his mouth are lifted and just seeing it makes her smile, too.

"So," he says, as he turns the snow over in his palm, "are you planning on telling me what I got for Christmas?"

Hermione laughs and shakes her head, stretching on tiptoe to press a kiss against his cheek. "You're not getting that lucky," she says.

Ron turns to her, suddenly almost child-like in the spark in his eyes and the smirk on his face. "But Hermione!" he whines, fixing his features to match his tone. "It's Christmas! Haven't you ever heard of a Christmas miracle?"

Laughing again: "In books, maybe. The only miracle that happens around here is your mum not noticing the gnome on top of the tree."

He drops dramatically to his knees, releasing her hand so he can clasp both of his together. "Please, Hermione?"

She folds her arms across her chest. "No."

And he's looking far too mischievous to be safe, so she really should expect it when he slaps his hands around the backs of her knees and sends her sprawling. Her shriek echoes on the crisp now-night air, and the chill of the snow stings her skin and sends a shiver through her whole body.

Ron collapses next to her, his face flushed from the cold and from laughing. After a moment or two, his grin fades and the new intensity of his gaze makes Hermione blush. Tangling a hand in her wet hair, he leans forward to kiss her; their lips meet, and warmth spreads through Hermione like wildfire, hot and blazing and wonderful and leaving her tingling, the shiver expelled.

"I love you," Ron murmurs after pulling away, and as always he looks a little fearful as he says it, as though afraid it won't make Hermione's stomach twist and her heart jump.

Hermione lays a hand on his cheek, looks deep into his eyes. "I know," she whispers. "I love you, too."

And she thinks maybe he hears her unspoken words: I'm not going anywhere.

So he grins, stands up, and offers his hand, and together they walk back through the snow to the Burrow.