Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Thank you all SO much for the reviews! They really encouraged me to get this last chapter out as quickly as I could. Thank you so much :D I hope you enjoy the conclusion.

Warning: Shameless fluff ahead ;P

Part II

The next morning Ron was the first to wake up. In his mind, he blamed it on how uncomfortable the couch had been, but he wondered if it wasn't just that he was overwhelmingly anxious to wake up and find what had happen next, to see if it had all just been a dream. But of course, Hermione had not woken up ( nor had anyone else for that matter), so the redhead moved with a strange uncertainty to the kitchen.

He was standing at the counter stirring coffee when he heard a shriek, followed by a groan, followed by a shout of "RONALD WEASLEY!"

Ron winced slightly before running towards the sound. He understood the problem as soon as he reached his doorway and saw his mother standing at it, jaw dropped. Hermione lay on the far edge of his bed, covers pulled tightly around her, leaving a suspiciously empty spot on the mattress beside her. She responded to Mrs. Weasley's shriek with another low groan and the moving of a pillow over her head. Mrs. Weasley shut the door with a breathy, heated, and insincere, "Excuse me, sweetie."

Mrs. Weasley rounded on him like a women possessed. She took several deep breaths, moving her arms but saying nothing. Ron had faced death eaters and dementors, but he had never seen anything quite so terrifying.

"Mom, calm down," he tried fearfully, hand outstretched defensively before him. "I can explain. It's nothing."

"NOTHING!?" the enraged woman howled. "NOTHING!? So it's a usual thing for you to…to...associate with young girls in the room I provided for you! I have half a mind to-"

"Mum, it was only a joke. I'm sure his face will be back to normal in a few days," George stated preemptively, yawning from further up the stairs, Fred stood behind him rubbing his eyes. The two had heard yelling and had assumed their mother had discovered their latest "prank."

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Weasley snapped back impatiently.

It was then the twins noticed their fearful younger brother, cowering slightly behind her. "Uh, nothing. What has Ron done this time?" George asked, happy to shift the attention from his misdeeds.

"It appears your brother felt it would appropriate to participate in his own honeymoon activities under my roof," she spat. She turned back to Ron. "And with your family in the house. I can hardly-"

"I didn't-" Ron started desperately.

Fred held his finger out to shush Ron and threw his arm around his mother's shoulder. "So disrespectful," he said gently to her. Meanwhile, George nudged Ron affectionately in the ribs and mouthed a "Well done." Fred turned and gave him a big thumbs up.

"Mom. I didn't-Hermione was really drunk last night and my bed was the clo-"

At this point, Fred and George could no longer contain themselves and both nearly fell to the floor, jaws dropped and eyebrows raised in a look that was a mix of shock, disbelief, amazement, and admiration.

And the look of Mrs. Weasley's rage only intensified. "IF YOU THINK-"

"I slept on the couch! By myself! I wasn't even in the room!" Ron finally blurted out as quickly as he could.

He saw his mother calm a little, and he knew he had gained a least a few seconds to explain himself.

"Hermione was really drunk last night, so I carried her inside because I figured she wouldn't want everyone to know about it and make a big deal and after all, it was mostly my fault…but I was really tired so I just laid her on the first empty bed I could find and passed out on the couch," he said in a single breath and tried to ignore the slightly disappointed looks on the twins' faces.

In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Weasley seemed to transfigure from a horrible, son-eating beast into a harmless and affectionate mother.

"What a gentlemen," she cooed with a loving smile and gently fixed Ron's mussed hair. "Come with me, dear." She started walking to the kitchen, Ron following close behind.

"That was disappointing," Fred mumbled to George as they watched the two walk away.

"Back to bed?" George asked.

"Oy," Fred nodded in approval.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was quickly throwing an odd mix of things into a very large mug. She pulled out her wand, mumbled an incantation, and tapped the glass three times.

"No need to worry about upsetting Hermione." She handed Ron the mug. "You just give her this, and I'll make sure no one is any wiser about her having a little to drink last night."

A little to drink? At this point, Ron was sure Mrs. Weasley was one of the few individuals who hadn't seen Hermione on top of the table last night. He was only too happy to keep it that way.

"Thanks, Mom," he said gently. Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at him and kissed him on the forehead. Ron headed quickly to his room.

When he opened the door, Hermione was still laying in the position she had been during his mother's first squeal. He sat down on the empty spot on the bed (the one that had nearly gotten him killed moments ago) and gently shook Hermione's shoulder.

"Go away…" she groaned from underneath the pillow.

"I think you might feel better if you drink this," Ron replied, his voice cracking a bit. In the absence of his terrifying mother, he was suddenly remembering the events of the previous night.

"Hermione," he tried again, again shaking her shoulder. "Hermione."

She groaned again. "Will you leave if I drink it?" she mumbled.

"Yeah."

She sat up, squinching her eyes against the light, and took the mug from Ron's hand. In seconds, she had downed the whole thing. Ron took the mug from her, and she closed her eyes and laid back down.

Good on his promise, Ron got up from the bed and moved slowly towards to the door.

"Ron," Hermione's voice came from the bed. It felt good for him to hear that voice again, her real voice, not the slurred voice of last night or the gravelly voice of moments ago. He turned back around. "Don't leave."

He nodded (though Hermione's eyes were still closed) and sat back down on his bed beside her. She said nothing, so he tiredly leaned back and closed his eyes.

"I got really drunk, didn't I?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah."

Ron would have liked to say "No," but he thought it had probably been a rhetorical question, anyway. She had been extremely drunk and there was no way for either one of them to deny it.

Hermione sighed. "And I'm in your room because you were the one stuck taking care of me?"

"Not stuck really…" he attempted.

Hermione rolled to her side and opened her eyes, focusing them sincerely on his. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said. "The last thing I wanted to do was ruin your night."

"You didn't ruin it." He was being honest. It certainly hadn't been the kind of night he was expecting, but parts of it had been quite nice.

She laughed and shook her. "So it was fun having to drag me off of a table?"

Ron's heart skipped a beat. He had, for one reason or another, allowed himself to believe that Hermione had been so drunk she wouldn't possibly be able to remember anything that had happened. He breathed in deep, gathering the air and courage he was going to need if he intended to continue this conversation. And he did intend to continue it.

"So…you remember everything?" he asked.

The blush that crept along Hermione's cheeks was enough of an answer. "I remember a lot….I remember I did…and said…some silly things."

Ron's heart sunk slightly. Was she taking it back? She she?

It was Hermione's turn to take a deep breath. She moved to sit upright on the bed by Ron. He stared at the wall in front of them, and she stared at her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said, still blushing bright red.

He shook his head, still looking forward, but trying desperately to play cool. He didn't want her to pity him. "No, I mean. It's fine. You were drunk. I shouldn't have... I-It's fine."

"It's just…that's not how I wanted you to find out…"

Ron, who had been very busy trying to keep up his "apathetic" act, was suddenly very confused. She wasn't apologizing for taking it back…she was saying she meant it. He looked questioningly at her. She blushed and looked away.

"I mean, I was going to tell you." Her confidence shook as she spoke, and her eyes darted back and fourth between Ron and anything else in the room. "Well maybe not that exactly. But, the general idea. I didn't even know I felt that until last night."

She paused for a second and pulled the covers slightly over her. Though she desperately wanted to run away and hide, she forced herself to finish, once and for all, and to look Ron in the eye when she said, "But I do feel it."

Ron remained silent, more unsure than ever, scared to be hopeful, scared to even move.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, quickly looking away. Though she hadn't expected it, she had hoped for a positive response from Ron but was being met with a blank stare. "I know it's stupid, and I know it's the last thing a teenage boy wants to hear. You just want fun from a girl like Fleur…but things are just getting scary. And I just…it's just good for you to know."

Ron knew that this was something, that this was the kind of moment that changed things. It was a turning point, a golden opportunity, and he was absolutely terrified he would somehow screw it up. His bony white hands were shaking with anticipation and fear, so he fidgeted with them to try and cover it up.

"Do you…you're saying that…" he fumbled.

"Don't be such a git, Ron," she snapped suddenly, her face, already red from blush, grew a bit redder. She was already embarrassed, and he was making it worse. "Yes, I'm saying I love you. You don't have to act so terrified."

"I'm not terrified," he said, but the changing pitch of his voice told otherwise. "Okay, well, maybe a little, but not like that." He reached out one of his shaking hands to hold hers. "I just…you're my best mate, right? And I want you, but like, in more than a best mate way…and in the way where I want to bludgeon any arse who'd try to hurt you…or you know, kiss you. And…you're all I think about anymore, but I don't mind…and…" Ron looked very distressed; he let go of Hermione's hand. "I don't know…last night, when you said it to me, I didn't even think…I just said it back…and it wasn't weird or anything…it was just…comfortable. I mean, is that love? I don't know, is that love?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure," she admitted. She laughed a little, "I think it's just a feeling…somewhere here." She motioned somewhere between her chest and stomach and clenched her hand. As Ron watched her, he felt that same happy misery exactly where she was describing.

"I love you," he blurted out strangely at first. He paused and this time, looked at her sincerely. "I think I do love you."

Hermione and Ron both blushed a vivid shade of red. "Well, good then," Hermione said promptly.

"So, what next?" Ron asked nervously, playing with his hands again.

"I guess we could…" Hermione turned to him. The sheer proximity of their faces alerted both teens to exactly what the "next" step was.

Ron moved his hand forward nervously and paused. "So I.." he inched his hand forward again, tucking Hermione's hair behind her ear and letting it linger there. He moved forward in short, unsure bursts while she remained mostly frozen, blushing red. When he was only a few inches away he closed his eyes and quickly closed the gap, catching Hermione's lips with his.

The kiss was soft and sweet, but not lacking in length. When the two pulled back, they grinned.

"I thought…maybe it'd be weird," he admitted. "But…" he shook his head, slightly dizzy with glee. He suddenly became worried. "I mean, it wasn't weird for you, was it?"

Hermione smiled and responded with another kiss.

Though it's hard for any male to admit he is wrong, Ron couldn't help but see he had made a slight miscalculation.

Hermione Granger was very fun, indeed.

Fin.

Hope you liked it :D! Please review:D

Best wishes,

Soragirl