The enchanted candles glittering on the Christmas tree in the Gryffindor common room cast eerie shapes across the warm walls. Ron Weasley lounged in a fluffy chair in the far corner, eyes fixated on the red and gold tinsel-laden tree. He was half in shadow, but he didn't mind; if anything, he was grateful for the solitude. With the newly realized fear of Voldemort's recent return, most families brought their children home for the holidays. In addition to this, the school had not yet fully recovered from the death of its beloved Headmaster the year before. Consequently, most Gryffindors were home now, though Ron was glad he had stayed.

As his eyes swept over the tree once more, he remembered his first Christmas in this room. He and Harry had had the room to themselves and had opened their presents ferociously. That was the day Harry got his first Weasley sweater, the first day he used his father's invisibility cloak.

Ron tore his gaze from the tree and wiped away a tear that had reached the end of his nose. He had no idea where his best friend was now, or even if he was alive. A few weeks after Dumbledore's death, Harry had gone off to hunt Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes. He had refused to let Ron and Hermione go with him, but he promised that if he ever needed them, he would come back. He sent Hedwig to them once or twice a month, though his letters never gave anything away, other than the fact that he was still alive and missed them.

The snowy owl had not been back in at least three weeks and Ron was beginning to worry that the worst had happened. Hours ago, the blazing fire had been warm and bright, but now it was soft and quietly lapping over the embers. The silence was broken and Ron jumped about six feet into the air as Hermione bounded through the portrait hole and into the tower, a smile on her face and a pie-sized silver box in her hand.

"God, Hermione! You're going to give me a bloody heart attack if you keep that up!" Hermione shrugged and laughed, "Oh, you'll be fine. I promise. Here, look, it finally came!" She thrust the silver box at him and he raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "It's your Christmas present, Ron, honestly, it won't bite."

He took the package from her and slumped back into the chair, shaking the box lightly. Hermione looked stricken, "Don't do that, you'll break it!" Ron scowled. "You bought me something breakable? What on earth would possess you to-"

"Just open it." She squealed in a very unHermione fashion. She knew Ron was just antagonizing her (and frankly, she loved it) but she was proud of the gift she had chosen and was tired of waiting for his reaction. She leaned on the back of the chair as he pulled the silver paper off with more care than was necessary.

"Thanks so much, Hermione, you really shouldn't have…" He trailed off, utterly amazed at the present in his lap. The box was made of thick, polished wood, but it couldn't compare to the lavish chess set that it contained. The board was made of the same wood as the box, but the squares were mother of pearl and onyx, almost definitely. It looked like the pieces were fashioned from the same shining elements.

"I don't know what to say." He blushed and she caught his eye. "That, Ronald Weasley, says enough." She swooped down and kissed his cheek before turning around sharply, announcing she was going to the library and strutting right back out of the tower. Ron sat in shock for a few moments, then said, "Well, that was sudden."

Not too long after this, Ron, feeling entirely too bored and mopey, took pieces from his new chessboard and began to set them up, realizing only after he was finished that he had no one to play with. He sighed and went back to his chair, pulled a pillow up beside him and fell into a quick, jittery sleep, born from his anxiety earlier in the day, no doubt.

His dreams were violent, bloody, doused in Dark Magic. He felt a hand contact his brow and he swatted it away before waking up, Hermione's face just inches from his own. "Ron, are you alright?"

He nodded and sat up, feeling foolish for making Hermione worry about him. She retreated to the couch and examined the chess pieces that were strewn across the table in front of her. If there was one thing she was not good at, it was chess, Wizard or otherwise. Surprising herself, she looked up at Ron and asked, "Do you want to play?"

Ron snapped his head around, confused, his classic 'huh?' look plastered all over his face. "Wizard chess." Hermione added as an afterthought. "Oh! Um…sure." Ron replied, but remained slightly disoriented as he sat down next to Hermione. They stayed like that for hours, playing game after game, Hermione losing them all but taking it in stride. When they could play no longer, Ron sprawled himself across the couch and watched Hermione compulsively rearrange the pieces still left on the board. Her hand hesitated for a moment over a black knight before pushing it across the board to square E-5.

Ron caught this movement and chuckled. "That was so long ago. It feels like more than six years, doesn't it?"

"It does. It feels like forever. We did a good thing that day."

"Won the House Cup as well."

"You were so brave, Ron."

Ron drew a blanket over himself and Hermione, as well as clearing the chessboard and the table, save for the lone black piece still guarding its square. Hermione fell asleep with her head on Ron's shoulder and he did the same, one hand lost in her tangle of hair.

A cool breeze whipped the corners of the open window, ruffling the scarlet curtain and chilling the air. A white owl flew deftly through the window, a letter attached to her leg. She hooted loudly, but neither Ron nor Hermione so much as stirred. Frustrated, Hedwig collided with the top of the table, jarring Ron from his first peaceful sleep in days, just in time for him to see the black knight knocked from the board and roll unceremoniously to the floor.