The First Reason

Ron picked up both of Hermione's hands, running his thumbs gently over the top of her knuckles. "It's a little cold out there," he mused and then, letting go, strode across the room and picked up a thick blanket that had been lying discarded on the floor beside the fireplace. It was deliciously warm in his fingers as he draped it around Hermione's small frame, fastening it beneath her chin. She smiled her thanks, still groggy. "You ready?" he asked, his voice breaking a bit.

"Ron, where are we going?" she asked, waking a little as he began to pull her toward the door. "I have exams tomorrow," she protested a bit, but still allowed him to pull her along toward the doorway."

He paused with his hand on the door. "I promise you'll still get plenty of sleep. It's just… there are some very important things I want to show you tonight. Is-" he cleared his throat, "is that okay? Won't you come with me, 'Mione?" His face was warm with the low light in the room and the infusion of heat on his cheeks from the flush that had settled there. His blue eyes were earnest, but nervous and Hermione's own eyes reflected a smile.

She shook her head, but grinned, a few stray hairs coming lose around her temples and forehead. "I don't know what you have planned, Ronald Weasley, but so help me, if you get me expelled, I'll never forgive you."

"I make no promises," he chuckled, opening the door and leading them out into the hall. With a deep breath, Ron took the invisibility cloak and dropped it over both of them, the light material silky on their faces. Ron stooped down, so much taller than her, and touched her cheek gently, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, and then leaning down to whisper to her. "Just follow me, okay?"

She nodded, grabbing his hand in hers and meshing their fingers, a curious smile on her face. They descended slowly into the common room, down the girls' stairs, which had righted themselves. Not as many stragglers still remained by the fire, but one or two sleepy heads still nodded in the plush chairs.

Ginny Weasley lounged in the loveseat nearest the hearth, her fiery red hair draped carelessly about the arm of the couch. Pausing, Ron pulled up the edge of the cloak slightly and, with careful aim, tossed a small package onto her lap. She stirred slightly, but didn't move. Hermione gave Ron a disapproving look until he shook his head and mouthed, 'From Harry.'

Treading carefully, the pair stepped carefully outside the portrait hole. With a gentle squeeze, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand tighter and they ran quietly down the corridor. A few of the portraits stirred grumpily from their dozing, but their invisibility cloak kept them from any real scolding. When they reached the staircase, Ron threw off the cloak, handing it to Hermione while he dug around in his pockets, pulling out the marauder's map and squinting at it. "I think we're safe," he whispered in the echoey quiet. Their steps rang out on the stone as they hurried down the stairs, spiraling down toward the Great Hall. Curious and befuddled, Hermione let Ron lead her hurriedly through the corridors until finally they came to a single door in the castle wall.

"The girls lavatory?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

Grinning stupidly, Ron pushed the door open, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on. Just trust me."

Leaning her head in through the door, Hermione hesitated, pulling her blanket more securely around her shoulders in the drafty bathroom. Nothing of significance stood out to her inspection, except Ron, who stood in the middle of the room looking pleased with himself, if a little nervous. The sinks were lined up as usual against the wall, glinting in the thin moonlight from the windows above and the firelight of several torches that had magically ignited themselves upon their entry. The bathroom stalls stood empty, reflected in the few mirrors that hung above the sinks.

"Ron what is this?' Hermione asked, a little grumpy as she stepped a little further into the bathroom.

"Let me show you," he insisted, walking carefully to her. Taking a hold of Hermione by her elbows, Ron pulled her into the room, leading her toward the sinks. "Here—stand right here," he said, adjusting her a little so her shoulders angled toward the door. "Now stay," he commanded, backing up to stand a few yards off from her. He grinned, as if expecting her to understand.

"What am I looking at?" she said, trying not to smile at the expression of pure satisfaction on his face.

"Don't you see?" he questioned excitedly, his hands raised and gesturing all around the tiled room. "This is where we fought the troll first year. Don't you remember?"

Hermione looked around—compared to all their many adventures, she had almost forgotten about their terrifying fight against the troll when they were only eleven. "I remember, but-" she started, but Ron interrupted, striding toward her and taking her hands in his. His eyes locked on hers, Ron pushed her gently backward until she bumped into one of the sinks. Taking her by the waist, he lifted her gently so that she sat on the rim of it, her back pressed against the mirror. Hermione's breathing hitched in her throat at the intensity of his gaze.

His eyes sparkled as he spoke, looking up into her eyes. "See, it's important that you remember this. I remember it. I always will… Because it was right here," he pulsed his hands around hers, "that I knew I wanted to have your friendship my whole life. I didn't know any other girl who was smarter, or braver, or more loyal. I remember wondering—before—why you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw. In that moment, though, I understood why the sorting hat had put you in Gryffindor. And I was really glad that it did because then it was even easier to be your friend." By the end of this speech, his smile had faded into a soft look, his eyes searching hers.

Hermione's eyes shone brightly. "Ron, I don't know what to say," she whispered.

He only shook his head. "Don't say anything. I just wanted you to know that I found out early on how brave you are—and how loyal you are to your friends… how much of a true Gryffindor you are." He kissed her hand against his lips, "And that, Hermione Granger, is the first reason why I love you."

Ron could almost see her pulse jump in her throat as she flushed from her neck upward. Before she could answer or give into the impulse to lean down and kiss him, Ron took hold of her hands and helped her to jump down from her perch. "Don't say a thing," he warned, dimples showing. "We have a lot more to see tonight."