A/N: I must say, out of all the Harry Potter fics I was working on, I was surprised that this was the first thing I published. This popped up out of nowhere, but I'm rather fond of it, truth be told. Basically, Ron screws up and Hermione gets mad at him. Feedback would be wonderful, especially since this is my first Harry Potter piece of fanfiction, so please let me know what you thought! Flames will be used to roast a lamb on a spit.

Disclaimer: Everything you see here belongs to that great and noble lady, J.K. Rowling, whom I owe a lot to.

Hermione sat on the couch, cradling the steaming mug of cocoa in her hands as she watched the clock intently.

11:55

Well, there were still five minutes left in the day. Perhaps Ron would leap out at any moment and surprise her. She smoothed down her hair, wondering if he had invited their friends and family to burst out all at the same time and surprise her. She wasn't overly fond of surprises, but Ron was doing a very good build-up by not having mentioned anything about her birthday all day, and she was desperate for something now.

11:56

All right, so perhaps it was taking a little longer than expected. There was probably a small flaw in the plans, nothing to be seriously worried about. Hermione sipped from her cocoa, her leg beginning to jiggle. She wondered if she should slip into something other than a bathrobe and Ron's large Chudley Cannon's t-shirt; what on earth would her parents and Mrs. Weasley say if they saw her in such a state? But that might interfere with the surprise, so she sat still and waited.

11:57

Any moment now, everyone would leap out. Hermione realized she would slosh hot cocoa all over herself if this happened, no matter how much she was anticipating it, so she downed the rest of it as fast as she could without burning herself. She set the mug down, her hands fiddling with the tie of the bathrobe. Any second now…surely it would be now…

11:58

What on earth was taking them all so long? Honestly, just because most everyone had wished her a happy birthday earlier that day didn't excuse them from being late. She huffed and shifted on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and jiggling her foot. But then, perhaps this wasn't a flaw; perhaps Ron was waiting until the absolute very last minute to surprise her so that she would think he had forgotten. She grinned at the thought.

11:59

Any second now. Hermione held her breath, tensing up in anticipation and excitedly awaiting the moment when everyone would pop out and yell, "Surprise!" She had to take another breath when the first ran out…oh, Ron was a prankster; no doubt this was George's idea…

12:00

Hermione's grin faded when she realized that there was no last-minute surprise. Visions of family and friends jumping out from the nooks and crannies they had been concealed in vanished as cold, hard reality struck her. No one was coming. She heard Ron's snores now, and she wondered why she hadn't heard them before. She felt a hard lump rise in her throat.

Ron had forgotten her birthday.

He never had in the past, which was perhaps why it took her by such surprise. Of course, Harry usually reminded him in the past, and probably assumed that Ron would remember this time around. But he didn't. He should have; it wasn't everyday a girl turned twenty-one. That bloody bastard. Hermione growled and snatched up her mug, storming to the kitchen. The sound of feet shuffling on the floor reached her ears. She whirled as Ron entered the kitchen, bleary-eyed and hair sticking up. He yawned. "Everything okay, 'Mione?"

Hell hath no fury like a woman whose birthday has been forgotten.

"No, everything is not okay, Ronald Bilius Weasley!" she screeched.

Ron looked taken aback.

"You forgot my birthday, you ignorant wart! What in Merlin's beard is wrong with you?! I have never forgotten your birthday, not once!" Hermione snarled.

Ron swallowed heavily. "I…Hermione, I…I didn't know…"

"Well, obviously!" Hermione retorted.

Ron could tell he was in deep trouble now. "I…I can't believe I forgot…'Mione, I am so sorry. Look, I'll go run to the store and get some cake now…"

Hermione let out a frustrated growl as she stormed past him. "No thank you! If you think a simple store-bought mound of sugar is going to make me leap back into your arms, you've got another thing coming, Ronald!" And she slammed the door behind her, falling onto the bed and burying her face in her pillow as she bawled like a child.

"Hermione?"

She groaned and rolled over, blinking in the harsh light from the hall. She squinted at the alarm clock—3:01. What in Merlin's name was the idiot up to now?

"What is it?" she asked in what was supposed to be a very annoyed voice but only came out sounding sleepily feeble.

Ron shut the door behind him and flicked on the lamp, sitting beside her on the bed. He was holding a brown paper grocery bag—had he really gone and gotten the bloody cake? "'Mione, I messed up, and I know it. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you, but I'll try."

Hermione snorted, straightening up and letting the covers pool around her waist. This would be interesting.

Ron reached into the bag and pulled out a long white feather. "In our first year, before we were properly friends and all, Flitwick had us using that Wingardium Leviosa on the feathers, and you were the only one who could do it. I made fun of you later (sorry about that, by the way), and then you locked yourself in the bathroom and Harry and I had to save you from the troll. That's the day we became friends. This is the feather." He set it down at her feet. Hermione picked up the feather and twirled it, astounded.

Ron reached into the bag again, this time drawing out a small, circular mirror. "I dunno if you remember this, but…well, in our second year, you figured out how the basilisk was getting around school and you were running to tell us when you came across Percy's girlfriend and told her about the thing. They told us that they found a mirror beside you two, which you had obviously looked at and got Petrified from. I nicked it when no one was looking…I used to stare at it and wonder what was the last thing you saw before you were Petrified. I never told Harry, though; he would've thought I was mental. Maybe I was." With an abashed sort of grin, he set it down at her feet and reached into the bag again.

Hermione held the feather as if it were made of glass and stared wondrously at the mirror. She remembered hurriedly begging Penelope Clearwater to pull out a mirror, explaining in a mad rush about the basilisk before she saw its yellow eyes in the mirror.

Ron pulled out what looked like a clipping of a tree next. Hermione noticed that it writhed and did not seem to want to be touched. Ron held this carefully. "In our third year, after Buckbeak was executed (this was before you got out the Time-Turner, obviously), Sirius showed up, only we thought he was the Grim, and he dragged me under the Whomping Willow and into the Shrieking Shack, d'you remember? Anyway, I was reaching out for you and Harry, and all I caught was a piece of the bloody tree. I put it in my pocket and sort of forgot about it."

Hermione held the serpentine clipping carefully, knowing that it was of importance to Ron and that it should not be damaged. Next, he pulled out a periwinkle flower that had obviously been preserved with some sort of protective charm. "In our fourth year, they held that bloody Yule Ball, and you went with Vicky."

Hermione's lips twitched, but she did not insist he say "Viktor" this time.

Ron was now mumbling, fiddling with the flower. "I was…well, all right, I was bloody jealous of the git, and then you showed up and you were so…" He actually sighed. "You were beautiful. Still are, I mean. But, erm, this flower fell off your dress, and I kept it." He laid this down gently at her feet, and she picked it up to join the small collection on her knees. Ron reached into the paper bag again and this time pulled out a Galleon. "In our fifth year (are you seeing a pattern here?), you had the idea to start up a Defense Against the Dark Arts type of club, and later it became the D.A. and all, but you, being the brilliant genius you are, gave everyone these Galleons. They were special, so we would know when the meetings were. I never spent it, which is kind of a miracle, really."

Hermione could feel herself starting to melt as she picked up the Galleon, setting it beside the feather.

Ron was avoiding her eyes, but he plowed on bravely as he pulled out an empty glass vial. "And in our sixth year, when Harry went with Dumbledore to find the horcrux, he told us to take the Felix Felicis, and after Ginny had a sip I told you to go on and have some and, and then you said that…" He swallowed.

"I said that I didn't want to lose you again," Hermione finished in a whisper.

Ron smiled. "Yeah…and then I said to stop being stupid, and we had a row, but you ended up drinking before me, just like I wanted." He handed the vial to Hermione this time, and she quietly set it with the rest of the things as he reached into the bag for what Hermione assumed to be the last present. "And then, well, we didn't really have a seventh year. We went with Harry on that mad camping trip, but we did come back to Hogwarts, and we got into the Chamber of Secrets." He pulled out a basilisk fang and Hermione gasped.

"Ron, you kept one?!"

Ron smiled, looking both sheepish and proud of himself. "You used one to stab Hufflepuff's cup, and then we brought a load with us, just in case, and, well…" His ears turned very pink. "We were holding them when we first, you know…the first time we kissed."

Hermione wondered if basilisk fangs held a romantic influence over her, because once again, she threw her arms around Ron and kissed him. She felt the objects slide out of her lap, but nothing much mattered at that moment. When they finally broke apart, Ron's ears were a vivid pink. He cleared his throat and reached into the bag again. "There's just one more thing in here, only it's nothing I got from you or anything like that…" He pulled out a wad of tissue paper and carefully unwrapped it. "This was my great-aunt Tessie's, and, well, I…"

Hermione gasped. It was a ring. A pale gold, diamond ring. The stone shimmered in the lamplight and winked at her invitingly. A hand flew to her mouth. Was it really…?

Ron grinned, still pink but still bravely plowing on. "Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"

Hermione couldn't help but let out a squeal. It was a very girlish thing to do, and more along the lines of something Lavender Brown might do than Hermione Jean Granger, but she bounced up and down and said, "Yes, Ron, yes! Oh, yes!"

Ron fumbled but managed to slip the ring onto her finger. She threw her arms around him again and squealed some more, the feather, mirror, tree clipping, flower, Galleon, vial, and fang all lying abandoned.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," Ron managed before he was promptly attacked again.