A/N: Some friends and I decided to put together a 2011 Ron/Hermione Christmas Fic & Art Fest, in honor of Ron/Hermione's perfect relationship as well as our good friend Dove's birthday, which is today! I'm posting part one of seven here, and will post two more parts throughout the day.

Happy birthday, Dove! I hope it's fantastic. (see you tonight!)

Breathe, repeat.

Part One.
22 December 1991

There were a lot of things he could have done. In fact, one of those things was most certainly 'nothing at all.' It wasn't as if they had that sort of... relationship. She wasn't related to him. Or anything like that...

In fact, a few months ago, he'd been rolling his eyes and scowling in her direction whilst her back was turned.

He felt uncomfortable, suddenly, remembering that particular detail, and he took a long, deep breath, staring into the roaring fire.

So instead of doing the nothing that he probably would have, on any ordinary occasion, he cleared his throat and trudged upstairs to his dormitory, happy that no one was around to see him as he sighed and approached his trunk, digging towards the back for something...

Feeling irrationally strange, he removed his best quill, the one his mother had bought him before the start of term... Honestly, the only new thing in his trunk, come to think of it. But that didn't matter. It wasn't like he was getting much use out of the bloody thing.

He studied it carefully, turning it round to inspect it for scuffs or scratches. And, finally, deeming it 'good enough', he shrugged and stood.

The dormitory door creaked open, and Ron jumped, shoving the quill into his robe pocket. Seamus entered the room with Dean, heading for their own packed trunks. They were leaving on the train, in the morning.

Relief flooded him as Seamus and Dean completely ignored him, and he wondered, really, why it had mattered so much. First of all, if Seamus and Dean could possibly guess what his intentions actually were for the quill that had been in his hand when they'd entered the room, then that would make them mind readers... which would be a much more interesting topic all of a sudden than 'Ron's giving Hermione a quill for Christmas.'

And besides, what was it that he was really doing? Nothing. In fact, it was quite silly, actually, to even think she'd want another quill. She probably had half a dozen sparkling new ones and another set on reserve in a sealed glass case for when one of the others gave out-

He grinned and tugged at his shirt, unbuttoning the top two buttons and scratching his neck as he descended back down into the common room. Surely, she'd still be up, revising something that wasn't due until mid-March...

Spotting her frizzy head several metres away, he approached her, swinging his robe pockets, hands buried inside, as he came into view of her face, lip between her teeth, eyes focused down on her work.

"Hey, Hermione," he called out as he sank into the chair across from her, at the table where she had strewn about more notes and papers than he'd have ever thought could actually fit atop the space available...

"Hm," she muttered, scribbling line after line down a large scroll of parchment. Watching her hands move, lightning across paper, he drifted off, mesmerized, and nearly forgot what he'd come to see her about.

"What's up, Ron- oh..." Her inky fingers had left fingerprints along the side of her quill, and she lifted her left thumb to her tongue, licking it quickly and rubbing at the marks, removing them, for the most part... at least, to her apparent satisfaction...

She moved to resume her energetic revision.

"Ah, here," he said finally, reaching into his robe pocket and removing the new quill. "I'm not using this. And... I dunno... are we exchanging Christmas gifts? Anyway..." He cleared his throat again as she froze, dropped her old quill to the tabletop, and gently took the new quill from him.

"You're giving me your quill?" she asked, studying him a bit too closely...

"Uh, sure?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

"You go through the bloody things so much faster than I do. I'll be okay with the one I'm already using until sometime late in fourth year. You, however, will need a replacement before the hour is up, judging by this," and he gestured to the massive piles of work that she had built up around her, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

She blinked at him.

"This one looks brand new..." she said slowly, holding it gingerly between her fingers.

"Yeah," and he shrugged yet again. He wasn't honestly sure if this was going well or not... "Right," he started quickly, changing the subject, "I reckon I'll find Harry for a game of Wizard's chess now. Please do join us in 1997 when you've finished up revising, yeah?" He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, but she shot him a grin as he stood, rubbing the back of his rather warm neck as he shuffled towards the settee where Harry was laughing with Dean, who had evidently returned to the common room whilst Ron had been... preoccupied.

Ron collapsed onto the settee and propped his feet up on the coffee table as Harry tossed him a chocolate frog.

So, he'd Christmased Hermione. He pondered her reaction to his gift a few times before dismissing it.

Right. Because... it was... nothing.

Sort of...