A/N: So, I have been working on my other Romione stories, but I recently read this amazing essay on how Ron and Hermione's famous kiss in DH wasn't necessarily their first kiss. I loved that idea so much, that it is now part of my head canon. I couldn't resist writing about it! I'm sorry for being so non-existent lately, but ya girl's gotta finish finals!

Fireside Chats

"What a load of bullshit," Ginny muttered, helping Hermione unpack. Well, more like grabbing things out of Hermione's trunk and throwing it violently in a pile on top of the spare bed they had placed in Ginny's room. "I am just as much a part of the Order as everyone else. I get why I can't go on missions, but I should at least be in meetings!"

"It was boring anyway," Hermione tried, but Ginny saw right through it.

"I heard the whole thing from the steps." She continued exasperatedly. "And Mum knows it! I tell her all the time."

"It's her way of keeping you safe."

"I don't need saving," she said, angrily tossing Hermione's shoes by the foot of her bed. "How many people do I have to tell that to?"

Hermione finished writing a list of books and supplies, and placed it in a small, beaded bag. She had a lot to get done, and so little time to do it. And Ginny's aggressive assistance was not the help she was looking for. "Please, don't be rash, Gin. It's only for a little while. Pretty soon, you'll be seventeen and you'll be able to do what you want."

Ginny plopped on the bed with all of Hermione's things, and glanced up at the ceiling. "Sometimes, I wish that I didn't have such an uptight mother," she complained. "I've dealt with worse at school than what you're all talking about."

Hermione knew her friend didn't mean it, but that statement struck a very tender chord. Family was everything to both of them. It was what held them together… made them want to fight in this war in the first place. She desperately wanted to tell Ginny what she had done to protect her family, but knew that it would be a conflict of interest. She did not want to risk telling her anything about them leaving, on the off chance she ran into trouble later in the year.

To avoid the inevitable inquiry that would come with crying in front of her friend, Hermione puffed out a sigh. "I'll be right back." Without waiting for Ginny's reply, Hermione dashed out the door and down the staircase. Before she could reach the door, she found herself gravitating toward the fireplace in the living room. The mantle adorned many pictures of the Weasley clan. Some were of older people she didn't recognize, and some were new. She traced the edge of the picture of the Weasley's trip to Egypt, and smiled amidst her tears.

She sat herself down on the warm couch facing the fireplace, which was burning just enough embers to see the family portraits and little knickknacks surrounding her. This place truly felt like home, but there was still an emptiness inside that she couldn't quite shake.

Ron came out of the kitchen with two mugs and a tray of biscuits, one jammed into his mouth. He stopped from going up the stairs when he saw Hermione crying. "Hermione?" he muffled. When she did not answer him, he dropped the biscuit out of his mouth, set aside the tray, and sat himself next to her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern written all over his face. "Was it what Fred said in the meeting? Sometimes he can be a right prick-"

"No, it's not that," she mumbled. She breathed heavily as she tried calming down, but all that did was make her tears flow even faster from her eyes.

Ron put a comforting arm around her and pulled her into him as she continued to cry. Softly, Ron persisted, "Hermione, I need to know what's wrong."

"My parents. I had to- to…" She was quietly sobbing into Ron's shoulder now. But Ron shifted her away from him so they were face to face. Ron's eyes were fearful, searching for an answer from a distraught Hermione. "I Obliviated them, Ron," she confessed. "They can't be here when I'm- when I-"

"When we leave," Ron finished her statement. He spent no time engulfing her in his arms.

And she held on tight as she cried some more. There was so much warmth in his embrace that her sobs eventually slowed down to sniffles and short hiccups. She broke away from him after a few more moments, wiping her remaining tears away.

"Sorry, I probably look like a mess," she croaked.

Ron brushed away her hair that was stuck to her face and chuckled. "No more than usual."

She couldn't help but break into a smile at his attempts to cheer her up.

"There it is," he said proudly. He never really had a chance to look at her smile so up close before. The creases above her mouth folded just above her cheekbones. Her teeth were so white and her lips were thin and pink. He definitely took these moments with her for granted. And so much had happened in the last few years that her smile seldom showed itself anymore. And it didn't help that he felt personally responsible for the amount of frowns and tears she shed all last year.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when Hermione asked, "Who are those for?" She indicated to the mugs and biscuits.

Ron felt his face warm up as he said, "They were for you. You seemed kind of distant when you got here, so I figured I'd try to cheer you up. Maybe find out what's wrong. Glad I did." He reached back to take both mugs in his hands.

"You were going to give this to me?"

"I'm giving it to you now," he corrected her, offering up one of the mugs of hot liquid.

She took it and basked in its scent. "I love warm pumpkin juice."

"I know," he smiled. "Cheers."

They clinked mugs and took a sip at the same time. Hermione's body immediately relaxed from her rigid appearance before. "This is lovely, Ron." She placed a hand over his, and looked into his eyes. "Thank you."

She had a lump in her throat, like she was going to cry again, but resisted the urge. Ron's gesture was truly beautiful and kind. And he looked so lovely in the light from the fireplace. He simply shrugged and smiled.

Hermione doesn't remember seeing Ron's face so up close before. There were smaller freckles that she's never seen. And his smile was lopsided, but it moved up to his eyes. That's one of the reasons why Hermione liked him so much: he was always genuine. Even when he was arguing with her, she always admired the way he felt so passionately.

And then, something clicked. After all these years, Hermione finally realized that Ron never hid from his emotions. Rather, he had too many emotions to handle. He wore his heart of his sleeve, just like she did.

His smile faded, but he didn't drop his gaze. This was different. This was new. And it both scared and intrigued Hermione. And he was leaning in. And she found herself leaning in, getting closer and closer to each other. Heart pounding in her chest, Hermione couldn't take the slow pace. She closed the short gap and kissed him quickly.

Realizing what she had done, Hermione jumped back, eyes wide. "I'm sorry," she said, turning red. "I didn't mean to-"

"I wanted to," he confessed. His palms were sweaty and he couldn't see straight; he felt like this was something out of a dream he's had before. He took a deep breath and mustered up all the courage he had to take her hand, pull her in slowly, and kiss her himself.

It was soft and slow and needed. It was everything Ron had always thought it would be, except he wasn't as sweaty or feeling his rapid heart pulsing to his ears. He couldn't help but mentally kick himself for not doing this sooner, for he felt like he was flying but only with Hermione. He let go of her hand and snaked it up to her shoulder, then the back of her neck.

And goose bumps immediately spread from his touch. That inclined her to place her vacant and shaky hand onto Ron's waist. She instinctively pressed her fingers to scoot him a bit closer, not caring about their mugs clinking together. She couldn't believe this was real, that this was actually happening.

The last big "clink!" broke them apart.

No words were uttered; they weren't able to speak anyway. Instead, they opted for small, embarrassed smiles.

They heard a creek on the stairs, which immediately brought them back to reality. There was a war going on. They were going to risk their lives to bring Harry here. They were going to leave with Harry to find and destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes. There was no time sit here, ogling at each other… kissing.

They finally looked away, Hermione resuming her position in front of the fireplace and Ron examining his biscuit tray.

He cleared his throat before he asked, "Do you want me to leave these here?"

Hermione turned to look at the tray, making sure to avoid Ron's eyes. She nodded curtly. "Alright."

"Good!" His voice went a little high-pitched. Nevertheless, he hoisted himself off of the couch and walked toward the staircase.

"Goodnight!" Hermione called out to him, still focused on the fire.

"'Night," he mumbled just before he creaked up the stairs, leaving Hermione alone with a warm mug of pumpkin juice and an array of biscuits. But all she could do was skim her lips gently with her fingers, still in awe of the event that had just occurred.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want me to continue this; I might have a few ideas in mind, but I like that it can stand alone too. 3