Hey everyone! It's my second Harry Potter fanfiction in two days, a feat I am very proud of. Yay!

This one was, once again, inspired by my irritation at a character, though this time it was Ron. I was reading the sixth book (the movie of that is hilarious :D) and I couldn't understand why it bugged Ron so much that Hermione had kissed another boy two years ago. Then I was like, "Wait, there's a great backstory in that!" I'd already had this image of Hermione chasing after Ron in the dark snow barefoot, so it just fit perfectly with this.

NOTE: I'm not sure if Hogwarts students would be allowed to go to Hogsmeade so late at night. I tried to rework this scene to be at some other location, but I already loved it too much. Sorry!

"So, like a date?"

"Yes, Ron," snapped Hermione, giving him a look that displayed her irritation. "For the last time, stop asking me that!"

She, Harry, and Ron were sitting in the Gryffindor common room by the fire, finishing up their homework, Hermione sitting on the sofa, and Ron and Harry sprawled out on the floor. Snape had assigned a two foot essay due by Monday on not exactly using the amount of ingredients as stated by the recipe of a potion - this was triggered when Neville added too much Cornish pixie dust to a brew, causing his cauldron to float away. Harry and Ron had tried to convince her that they could do it over the weekend, but she'd quickly pointed out that the second task was coming up, and that Harry still had no idea what to do. This actually didn't apply to Ron at all, but Hermione knew that if she convinced one, she'd convince the other.

Either way, they'd both seemed to have pretty much given up on the essay when Hermione had announced that Viktor had asked her to meet her for dinner tomorrow at the Madame Puddifoot's. They both looked sulky, probably because both of them had a miserable time getting dates for the Yule Ball.

"What time?" demanded Ron.

"Oh, Ron, honestly," sighed Hermione. "Enough with the interrogation."

"Viktor's not that bad, really," said Harry distractedly. Hermione kicked his back. "Ow! What did I do?"

"Not that bad?" said Ron incredulously.

"Here he goes," grumbled Hermione. "Nice going, Harry.

"You're competing against him in the bloody Tri-Wizard Tournament!" continued Ron. "He's your enemy! If you two met face to face in the tournament, he'd try to blow you up! He'd laugh at your dead body!"

"I wish I wasn't," said Harry gloomily.

"Wasn't what?"

"In the tournament."

"Come off it, you seemed pretty eager to win the first task -"

"Because it was that or get killed by a dragon," said Harry hotly.

"Stop it, both of you," interrupted Hermione quickly. She wouldn't be able to live through being their mediator again. "It doesn't matter whether Harry wants to or not, we've been through this. He has to."

"And Viktor is his enemy," repeated Ron. Hermione groaned silently, starting to realize her mistake in telling Ron. It wasn't like he fancied her or anything. Ron was just incurably nosy and seemed to think that he was the only one who was permitted to have a love life.

"I'm going to bed," she muttered.

"It's seven-thirty!" protested Ron.

"It's better than sitting down here and listening to you rant about everything that doesn't concern you!" she retorted as she gathered her things.

As she climbed the stairs, she heard Ron call "Are you sure it's a date, Hermione?"

It took everything she had not to take out her wand and hit Ron with every curse she could think of.

"You look very nice, Herm-own-ninny," said Viktor as Hermione slid into the booth at Madame Puddifoot's the next night.

"Oh, thanks," said Hermione, smiling a little uncertainly as she shrugged out of her coat. She hadn't done anything particularly special with her hair or anything - it hung down, as bushy and brown as ever - and she was just wearing a boring red turtleneck and jeans. The only thing that distinguished her outfit from what she wore every day was a pair of shiny red heels. They weren't exactly logical considering the snow outside, but Lavender Brown had heard about her date with Viktor, and had insisted. Hermione had been able to get out of wearing the insane red dress Lavender had wanted her to wear, but the heels were harder, and she'd eventually decided it was easier just to agree than continue to argue with Lavender.

As for the pronunciation of her name, well, she wasn't even going to bother.

It was quiet for a few moments, as both of them looked determinedly around the café, trying to think of something to say. It wasn't very busy that night. Actually, it was empty except for a boy with fiery red hair sitting alone - wait, that couldn't be -

"How vas your test yesterday?" Viktor asked suddenly.

She whipped her head towards him, the shock enough to bring her back to the date. Even Harry, the more considerate of her two friends, hadn't remembered she had a test in Arithmancy. "It was splendid," she said, a pleasant blush seeping into her cheeks.

"Oh, please," an entirely new voice said loudly, wafting over across the restaurant. "As if he cares that she got another bloody Outstanding."

Hermione unconsciously clenched her fists as her eyes met Ron's, who was staring straight back at her from a few booths away, an expression of contempt on his face.

"Um, Viktor," said Hermione distractedly, not looking away from Ron. "I have to visit the loo." The saying if looks could kill came to mind. If only it were so. Then she wouldn't have to kill him herself.

"But you have just been getting here -"

"I'm really sorry. It's, ah… feminine issues." She cringed at the both embarrassing and feeble that excuse was, but it seemed to convince Viktor. Eyes getting bigger by the second, he mumbled something incoherent and nodded. She stood up, took a deep breath, and tried not to stalk as she went over to Ron's table. She failed.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Hermione when she reached him, slamming her hands down on the table.

"I decided to come here to eat. I figure if I'm eating here, the house-elves at Hogwarts have one less mouth to slave over," said Ron, smirking.

"You - you -" spluttered Hermione, struggling to think of a bad enough word. "This is Madame Puddifoot's! It's for couples!"

"Show me the law that says I'm not allowed to eat here by myself, and I'll leave," said Ron carelessly, picking up a fork and examining in it.

"You just want to spy on me and Viktor!"

"Actually, no. Speaking of Dear Vicky, however - doesn't he think you've gone to the loo?"

Hermione actually growled at him, but stomped away, thinking of every single bad thing that could happen to Ron in the next thirty seconds.

"Ve are all better now?" Viktor asked as she sat down.

She jumped a little - she'd almost completely forgotten about him, ironically enough. Forcing a smile, she said, "Yes, thank you. Where were we?"

The rest of the evening could not go well. Every time she or Viktor said something, she could hear Ron's scathing remark floating innocently across the room, and she couldn't help but go red every time. After that, the next few seconds were always marred as red hot anger swept through her - he was being such a git. And he was alone, who could he possibly be talking to?

Initially, she assumed Viktor didn't hear him, until Ron made a particularly nasty comment after Viktor paid Hermione yet another compliment. He slammed his coffee cup down so hard it shattered.

"Reparo," muttered Hermione, pointing her wand at the cup before Madame Puddifoot could notice. The coffee, however, stayed on the floor.

"Vill your friend ever leave?" grumbled Viktor, just barely keeping a snarl out of his voice.

"He's leaving now," said Hermione, standing up. "I'll be right back, Viktor. I'm so sorry."

She stormed across the room to Ron's table. He was sitting there, nonchalantly sipping hot cocoa from a cup that, for some reason, had two straws in it.

"Oh, hey, Hermione," he said casually.

"Outside," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "Now."

Ron paled just a little, but didn't argue. He silently got up.

"Pay now," she added when he started to walk away. Ron looked like he wanted to protest, but shrugged, put down a few Sickles on the table, and hurried towards the door. At least he had the decency to look guilty, thought Hermione grimly as she followed him.

Outside, it was snowing, the pretty white flakes standing out against the dark night, drifting through the wind and landing in her hair. It was pretty cold out, much colder than it had been when she'd been walking here. But she didn't have time to think about that, for as soon as the door finally swung close (it stayed open a little longer than usual), she was yelling.

"Ronald Weasley, I cannot believe you!" she screeched. She started to walk towards him, but stumbled, not used to walking in heels.

Ron took a step back, holding his hands out defensively. "Look, I'm really suspicious of that Krum character. He's obviously just using you, Hermione."

Her jaw dropped. "Obviously using me?" she repeated, unsure of whether to be completely furious or to laugh at his stupidity. She chose the former. "The only thing that's obvious is that you are a complete git!" Her hand flew down to hover above her pocket, but rage was quickly consuming her mind, and all the spells she knew were far away. Desperately, she yanked off one of the dangerous heels and hurled it at him. Ron ducked - and the heel crashed into nothing, which proceeded to yelp in pain and fall down into the snow bank, making an imprint of a fourteen year old boy.

This was too much. Hermione hurried over, not even caring that her bare foot was freezing in the snow. Too angry for words, she lunged her hand forward, and caught hold of the Invisibility Cloak.

"Harry?" said Hermione furiously. "You're in on this too?"

"Ron made me," said Harry quickly, shivering - though if he was shaking from the cold or fear, she didn't know. His hand was held protectively about his head. She swerved around.

"Way to go, Harry," muttered Ron.

Hermione glared at Harry for a second, then looked back over her shoulder at Ron. Turning to Harry, she threw the cloak at him. "Leave. Now."

Harry glanced at Ron. "But -"

"Leave," she repeated menacingly. A torn expression on his face, Harry's eyes flickered between her and Ron before he finally began to back away towards Hogwarts.

"Sorry, mate," he called as he left.

"Thanks for the back-up," yelled Ron after him. Then he turned back to Hermione, watching her warily.

"Why do you have to butt into everything?" she burst out. "This doesn't concern you -"

"Like I said, he's only interested in you because he wants information."

The words stung Hermione more than she cared for Ron to know. Was it so absurd for someone to like her, to be interested in her, that the only logical explanation must be that she's being used?

Instead of voicing this train of thought, she whipped off her other shoe and chucked it at him. Unfortunately, Ron grew up with five older brothers, and his reflexes were quite good. He simply ducked again. The shoe hit the sign above Madame Puddifoot's door with a vengeance, knocking the snow on top of it onto the ground.

"Just because someone likes me doesn't mean they have alternate motives!" cried Hermione. Now that her feet weren't hindered by the heels, she was able to walk towards Ron without falling on her face. Ron seemed to realize this, too. He started to back away. "And just because you didn't notice I'm a girl doesn't mean someone else won't. You treat me like I'm your - your little personal house-elf, just there to do your school work! But, just for the record, I do have other interests, Ronald -"

"Obviously," muttered Ron, his back hitting the wall of Madame Puddifoot's. He looked semi-panicked now. He deserved it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she gasped, cornering him. She was so close now, she could see the tips of his ears. They were an even brighter red than his hair.

"Well, you're very interested in darling little Vicky back there, aren't you?" he snarled.

And then they were kissing.

She wasn't exactly sure how it happened. One moment, they'd been at each other's throats (quite literally), and now they were at each other's mouths (quite literally). Instinct took over, and her hands found their way to his ginger hair, and she was kissing him back. For a second or two, her eyes closed. And then she realized what was happened, and she pushed herself away, breathing hard. Ron looked just as shocked. Their eyes met.

Dizzily, Hermione stepped back, trying so hard to think logically. As her foot hit the ground, she was suddenly reminded of the biting cold. Her feet were frozen.

What had just happened? It made absolutely no sense whatsoever. She liked Viktor. She was on a date with Viktor - quickly, she glanced back through the window, but Viktor's back was facing them - and had no interest in anyone else, especially Ron…

Ron. She quickly turned towards him, anger once again rising up within her. That red-headed, pale, horrible, ignorant, nasty prat! He'd been pretty mean, but this was too low, even for him. Once again too outraged for words, she slapped him across the face, gasping even as she did it at her own daring.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what was that for?" he moaned, rubbing his cheek.

She was livid. "What was - Ron, you just kissed me!"

"No, you kissed me," he argued. He tried to take a step back, but he was already up against the wall.

"No, I didn't!" said Hermione desperately. "Ron, I'm on a date!" She was close to tears, and she hated it. If she cried now, they would freeze on her face.

He gulped. Both of them were silent, and Hermione thought about the scary possibility that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't some cruel joke…

"Just forget it," she said coldly. "I'm going back inside." Stiffly, she turned and walked towards the door.

"But -"

"Forget it," she growled. "Or I'll use a Memory Charm on you." She marched back inside, remembering as her feet hit the wooden floor that she'd forgotten those ridiculous heels, although that might have been a blessing.

Viktor, who had gotten up when she entered, hurried over, holding yet another thing Hermione had forgotten: her coat.

"Vas your friend bad?" he asked, and Hermione realized that she was making the face she made when she was struggling not to cry. It didn't work, though. Her eyes leaked a few tears, and they traitorously slipped down her face.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she thought of the incident he might've seen if he'd just turned around.

"Vhat for?" asked Viktor softly. She didn't answer, but lifted a hand up to her face and started to wipe away the water. Viktor watched her quietly for a moment, then took her coat and put in on her shoulders, like a shawl.

"Thanks," she whispered, looking up at him. In the split second before he leaned in, she knew what was going to happen, and half a dozen different emotions rushed through her veins, the strongest of all being confusion.

The kiss was soft, gentle, the last thing you'd expect from someone as huge and athletic as Viktor. Just like Ron's kiss was strong and fiery -

Don't think his name, a voice in her mind sighed happily, engrossed in Viktor. Hermione complied, and just kissed Viktor back, trying not to think about how easily this could've been her first kiss.