"Honestly Ronald!" Hermione said exasperated. "You can't leave it until the last minute or you'll never get it done."
"But Hermione, it's Christmas," Ron said, his voice suspiciously close to a whine. "We still have more than a week until its due."
Ron, Hermione and Harry were gathered around the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. Although all three had their books and rolls of parchment out, Harry and Ron had spent the better part of the last hour discussing their upcoming Quiddich match and their Potion's essay was lying untouched.
Hermione sighed again and returned to her essay, her quill scratching away furiously. Ron leaned over her shoulder and watched as she wrote. She looked up at him with a glare.
"I'm not going to let you copy my work when you haven't even tried to work on yours."
"I can't think of a topic to write about," Ron said slumping down in a chair. "What is yours about?"
"The magical ingredients of Amortentia and how they interact," Hermione said flipping through a large library book and brushing a stray hair out of her face at the same time.
"Amortentia!" Harry said with a dreamy smile. "That stuff smells great. Like a treacle tart, a broomstick handle and Ginny's perfume all rolled up into one."
"I can't tell you how gross it is that you smell my sister's perfume in a love potion," Ron said making a face. Harry just smiled, but his cheeks flushed pink.
"Well what do you smell?" Harry asked hoping to move the subject away from him and Ginny. Although they were still not back together, they were clearly both in love.
"I smell Mum's cooking, rain and ink," Ron said.
"Those are odd," Hermione said looking up from her essay. "I mean, granted, Molly is the best cook around, but why the rain and ink?"
"Dunno," Ron said shrugging his shoulders. "I never gave it much thought. I've always liked rain, I guess. I used to play in it when I was a kid. What about you Hermione?"
"Oh," Hermione said distractedly, "I smell grass and parchment and soap."
"Soap?" Ron said, his voice filled with laughter. "Why do you smell soap?"
Hermione, suddenly realizing what she said, stopped writing and looked up. "Oh, no reason. I guess I just like the smell."
"You like the smell of your soap so much that you smell it in Amortentia?" Harry said incredulous. "That's bloody bizarre, Hermione!"
"Oh for crying out loud Harry, it's not my soap!" Hermione gasped and put her mouth over her hand, knowing she had said too much and began furiously packing her bag, shoving quills, ink and books in at a furious rate.
"What do you mean by that?" Ron asked suddenly. "Whose soap are you smelling?"
"Don't you think this conversation is a little ridiculous?" Hermione asked reaching for her essay. Ron reached out and grabbed it a moment before she could.
"No!" Ron said, his face growing red with anger. "I want to know who you smell in that potion!"
"Give that back, Ron," Hermione said holding out her hand.
"No! Not until you tell me who!"
"For God's sake Ron! It doesn't matter!"
"Yes, it does!"
Both Ron and Hermione were red faced and yelling, standing only inches from each other. Harry looked alarmed at both of them. It had been almost a year since their last fight and he had never seen them yell like this before.
"I am not having this discussion!" Hermione said trying to grab her Potion's essay but Ron moved quicker and she couldn't reach it in time.
"FINE!" she yelled. "IT'S YOURS, ALRIGHT?"
There was a long pause in which they stood staring at each other. Harry suddenly found his essay to be of the utmost importance and began writing, his head down as if he hoped the sound of the quill could drown out Hermione's confession.
"Have you lost your mind, Hermione?" Ron asked, his face turning red. "Why on earth would you smell my soap?"
Hermione's face turned even redder, which she did not realize was possible. She thought she heard Harry mutter something along the lines of "bloody idiot" but she could not be sure.
"Well," she started wishing she had never even started the conversation, "I suppose… well… I suppose it's because… I fancy you." The last two words she said in a mumble hoping he couldn't hear.
"You fancy me?" Ron said, his voice raising an octave. "Merlin, Hermione! Are you feeling alright? Have you been eating spiked chocolate cauldrons?"
Hermione gave a desperate look to Harry who was staring at Ron dumbfounded and then grabbed a book off the table.
"I have to return this to the library," she whispered and Harry was sure he saw the glint of tears in her eyes as she turned away. She stumbled through the portrait hole leaving a stunned silence in her wake.
"What do you think that was all about?" Ron asked turning back to Harry who continued to stare at him.
"How thick can you be, Ron?" Harry said jumping to his feet.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked looked insulted.
"Didn't you hear her? She just told you she fancies you! Isn't this what you've been wanting?"
"Well, yeah, but she must have been confused. I mean, why would someone like Hermione ever be interested in me?" Ron said staring down at his feet.
"Well, I'm beginning to wonder myself," Harry said with a strangled laugh, "but I think you better go after her and find out yourself."
"Do you think?" Ron said looking up, a mixture of hope and embarrassment on his face.
"Ron, don't be an idiot! Go, before it's too late! She said she was going to the library. If you hurry you'll catch her."
Harry gave him a push toward the portrait hole and it was all the incentive Ron needed. He hurried as fast as he could down to the library and by the time he reached it he was both out of breath and extremely nervous. He pushed open the doors looking over at Madam Pince who appeared to be annoyed that students actually were visiting the library on Christmas. He began walking down the rows of books whispering loudly.
"Hermione? Are you here?"
He could not hear anything until he reached the far corner of the library where he heard the sound of stifled sobs. He turned the corner and saw Hermione sitting on the floor, her head cradled in her arms. He swallowed hard. He knew that this was not the first time he had made her cry; he had done so on almost a yearly basis every since their first year, however he had never seen her so distraught.
"Hermione?" he whispered, sitting down next to her.
"Go away Ron," Hermione sniffed, refusing to look up. "Haven't you humiliated me enough for one day?"
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said feeling worse and worse. "I just don't know why you would ever fancy me."
"Well… I suppose because you're kind and funny and brave…" she broke off feeling embarrassed again. "It doesn't matter, though, does it? I mean, clearly I must have been drugged or lost my mind."
"I didn't mean that," Ron said quietly. "I didn't think you were serious. I mean, you're smart and pretty and everyone knows you're the cleverest witch in our year."
"You think I'm pretty?" Hermione asked finally raising her head to look at him. Her face was red and streaked with tears and she felt anything but pretty at that moment.
"Well… yeah," Ron said ducking his head. "I mean, I guess if I was going to be honest, I'd tell you that maybe… well… maybe I fancy you too."
Hermione's face broke into a smile and Ron smiled back at her. "Oh, well then…" she paused for a long moment looking shyly at him. "Are you going to kiss me?"
Ron smiled again. "Well, I suppose. I mean… anything for a friend right?"
"Ronald Weasley, will you shut up?" Hermione laughed and leaned forward pressing her lips to his.
It felt a little awkward at first, kissing someone they had known for so long, but after a moment Hermione put her arms around his neck and he pulled her on to his lap. It was just as he did this that they heard someone behind them.
"Out!" Madam Pince yelled. "You filthy hormonal teenagers! Find somewhere else to be doing that!"
Ron pulled Hermione by the hand and they ran laughing out of the library. As they reached the hall, Hermione grew serious.
"I hope that she doesn't revoke my library privileges for that," she said biting her lip.
"Stop worrying, Hermione," Ron said laughing. "I reckon that's the most fun I've ever had in a library.
When they reached the common room, a little breathless both from running up seven flights of stairs and from their frequent stops in hidden alcoves, they stopped short as they climbed through the portrait hole. Sitting in a far corner were Harry and Ginny, all too engaged in their own activities to notice anyone who had come in.
"Come on," Ron said pulling Hermione back into the hall. "They deserve some time to themselves. Let's go find something to eat."
Hermione nodded and Ron lifted the hand he was holding, giving it a kiss. As he did he paused and looked down at her fingertips and then smiled to himself.
"What?" she asked.
He held up her hand for her to see. Her fingers, as usual, were ink-stained.
"Ink," he said looking down at them. "You thought it was weird I would smell ink in the Amortentia. You always smell like ink from getting it on your fingers. I guess it's not so weird after all."
Hermione smiled and reached up to give him a kiss. "No. Not so weird at all."