He was...frustrating. He did things that were...frustrating.

Like how he always did that...that...thing...where he would run a hand through his...s-stupid...red hair when he was trying to figure out his next move was in Wizard's chess. It just made me want to sno-...snap at him. He never even notices either, just sits there and does it.

I'm not being unreasonable. He's Ron. He's frustrating. He just sits there with his red hair and his freckles all over his face, and...and...distracts me...b-because of all his annoying habits. Like the hair thing...

Now don't get me wrong, I do not hate Ron. He's been my best friend ever since he helped rescue me from that troll, and I really do value him even though sometimes our personalities clash and we end up in a row and it seems like I hate him. The truth is...I think I might lov-

"Check mate," his voice snapped me out of my inner monologue, and I felt a warm feeling on my cheeks as he looked over at me, catching my gaze. I quickly looked back down at my ancient runes homework, trying to control my pink blush.

I eventually plucked up the courage to look back up at him. Ron was smirking at Harry from across the board as Harry tried to figure out his next move, but he glanced my way and made eye contact. His smirk changed into...what kind of smile was that? It made me feel all...f-fuzzy...

No. No. Ancient runes. You have ancient runes to do Hermione...

See what I mean? Frustrating and distracting.

"Hermione?" came the voice again. I looked up at him. Harry and him had apparently finished their game of chess.

"Yes?" I said softly, I already knew what he was going to ask for.

"Have you finished Snape's potions essay yet?"

"Ron, that's due tomorrow and it's supposed to be at least a foot and a half," I sighed. Knowing him he probably hadn't even started it.

"Well I've had Quidditch practice, right Harry?" he looked to Harry eagerly for back-up.

"Oh no, don't go dragging me into this mate," Harry replied, putting his hands up like he was surrendering.

Ron shot him a glare, but had put on the puppy dog eyes by the time he looked back at me.

"Please help me 'Mione? I really need it..." he said softly.

Now what occurred after he turned those big blue eyes on me and asked me to help him is something I am not proud to admit did happen, and that I still can't believe this frustrating boy managed to make happen to me.

My stomach flipped, and my heart rate increased. The familiar pink blush spread up my cheeks rapidly as I tried to form a even a complete word. His crystal blue eyes just bore into my chocolate brown ones, and for once in my life I couldn't even think.

After about thirty seconds of shameful head-spinning, I finally came to my senses.

"S-sure," I stuttered, my cheeks still dusted a light pink.

"Thanks 'Mione, you're brilliant," he complimented me like always when I agreed to help him with his homework.

"Well go get your potions book if I'm going to help you," I sighed, clearing off a table so we could lay everything out. Ron ran up to his dormitory to grab it, and I glanced out the window. The sun was fading fast behind the horizon, turning the sky an entrancing orange-pink. Almost all the other students who had been in the common room had gone up to bed since it was getting so late. Sometimes I wanted to strangle Ron for leaving his homework for after things like chess. Frustrating, frustrating...

He was back in a minute, and plopped his book on the table in front of me.

"Thanks again 'Mione, I need a good grade on this, I don't think I could take another one of mum's Howlers concerning my grades," he said sheepishly, giving me his signature goofy grin.

"...since when did you start calling me 'Mione?" I asked quietly, that was the third time he had called me that today. I looked up at him...and he was...blushing! His cheeks were turning the color of his fiery red hair rather quickly, and he opened his mouth like he was going to answer me, but then closed it again a few seconds later and looked intently back down at his potions book.

"I don't know, just shortened your name..." he muttered, kind of slurring the words together.

I studied his face for a minute, but soon looked back at the book to help start the essay.

The sun was long set by the time we finished, the dim light of the moon streaming through the common room window. I glanced at Ron's watch, it was 1:30 a.m. This was the fourth time this week I had been up after midnight...stupid O.W.L. studying...

"Thank you so much Hermione," Ron said quietly, looking at me with tired blue eyes. "I really owe you."

I smiled. "You're welcome Ron, just don't do this again, ok? I don't think I could take the lack of sleep a second time," I laughed a little, packing up my stuff while he stood up and stretched his long legs. I got up too, and stumbled a little.

"Whoa there," strong arms helped stop me from toppling over. "You ok?" his voice sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, my legs just aren't used to walking after sitting for so long," I muttered, breaking from his arms and swaying a little. He steadied me again, holding on stronger this time.

"Maybe you should sit down..." he suggested gently, leading me over to one of the plush leather couches in front of the slowly dying fire.

"Sorry," I apologized quickly, "I've just been up late a lot studying for O.W.L.s and I guess the lack of sleep is finally catching up with me."

"Don't apologize 'Mione," Ron murmured, I could see sincerity in his face. He still had had one arm around my shoulders and the other gently gripping the forearm closest to him, though he didn't seem to notice, and I certainly didn't push him away.

Pushing down all my fears of rejection, I laid my head on his shoulder cautiously. There was a second of surprised hesitation in Ron's reaction, but he pulled me closer. His arms had slipped around my waist, his hands holding warm and strong. I lifted my head from his shoulder, facing him, my breath hitching. Our faces were only inches apart...his lips mere centimeters from mine...

For the past four years I had rowed with him constantly, denying to myself over and over that he was nothing more than a friend...that the way he made my heart beat faster was just coincidence in bad timing...

I, Hermione Jane Granger, was in love with this frustrating, red-headed, freckly, blue-eyed, sweet, kind, amazing, wonderful, Weasley. I was in love with Ronald Weasley.

And as the realization hit me his cherry red lips that were so close to mine seemed to hard to resist. But as I was about to close the last tiny gap that still remained between us, I felt strong warm lips already pressing on mine. And as much as I've always hated cliches and swear, damn was it magic, better than the most advanced spell I had ever learned in any class. His hands were strong and possessive on my waist, my own arms wrapped around his neck, and the feelings that had been boiling up inside us like a hot cauldrons were finally overflowing into this kiss.

I don't know how long we kissed but I know when we both pulled away for shaky breaths there was this curious sensation left in my stomach that felt very much like I had just drank a gallon of butterbeer. I kissed him again, his taste was more addicting than chocolate frogs...

And as we kissed into the next day, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this boy wasn't frustrating after all...