Prompt: "Don't hesitate, just kiss me." I can't help myself, Romione please?
(I took some liberty and gave the gist of this line to George!)

Era: Post War

Rating: T

Number Eleven

He could still count the number of times he'd kissed her on his hands.

With Lavender, it was hard to keep track because his mind would always wander elsewhere while they kissed. He'd start thinking about his schoolwork, quidditch, or Hermione. Mostly Hermione. By the time he refocused, it was impossible to know if they had shared one, two, or five kisses, and he didn't really care anyway.

He couldn't focus on anything else when Hermione kissed him, so he remembered each one vividly. Although amazing, it didn't feel normal to be able to kiss her. He still hesitated each time, half expecting her to turn her head away and change her mind, but she never did.

First, the Room of Requirement. He'd never forget that one. Even if someone obliviated him, he was certain the sound of basilisk fangs clattering to the floor, and the feeling of her lips frantically meeting his would still be there.

Then they kissed again after the battle, on their way back to the Gryffindor common room. The heartbreak he felt for Fred must have been evident in the way he walked determinedly forward, face down, shoulders slumped, because she did exactly what he wanted her to do. She reached for his hand and pulled him to an empty hallway and hugged him. Then he cried into hair, and she just held him for as long as he needed to be held.

When he stopped crying, their lips came together. He didn't know who initiated it, but it didn't matter like he thought it would. Their second kiss communicated something completely different than their first one. Rather than 'I want you', it said 'I'm here for you', and Ron scanned every detail into his memory. It was softer, gentler and sweeter, and managed to burn away some of the sorrow he felt about Fred.

Their third kiss was in the boys' dormitory, more specifically, his bed. Curled up in eachothers' arms, under the blankets, they enjoyed a more passionate kiss that might have turned into a snog if he hadn't been so damn tired. They silently agreed to put that on hold before sleep overtook them, and he was grateful, because he wanted to be fully present the first time they truly snogged.

They shared their fourth kiss the next morning, but Ron kept it short and sweet, because he hadn't brushed his teeth yet, and he was a bit self-conscious…

The day after the battle was a blur. He spent most of the day making arrangements with his family, checking in with his classmates, and visiting victims in the hospital wing. They both remained distracted until later that evening, when they returned to the Burrow, and they shared their fifth kiss on the landing of the stairs before parting ways for the night.

Kisses number six, seven, and eight all happened the next day. In the garden after breakfast, quickly in the living room between chores, when they had a rare moment alone, and before bed, when Hermione managed to slide into his room, and Harry determinedly looked away.

Number nine was their first real snog. They took an afternoon around the orchard, and finally alone and obscured by trees, he embraced her. She let him press her up against an apple tree while he admitted her tongue between his lips, and it was a blissful oblivion.

Then there was number ten, earlier today, before the funeral. It was a lot like number two—comforting, supportive, gentle, hidden away from prying eyes.

xXx

The funeral ended hours ago, but Ron, Hermione, Harry and the rest of his siblings were still outside, passing around Butterbeers and telling stories of Fred.

Hermione was next to him, but no closer than she would have been sitting if they were still just friends. That was one thing about the last ten kisses, apart from Harry, no one else knew about them.

It was strange to feel such happiness with Hermione in the midst of his debilitating grief. Both emotions were so strong, yet somehow, they didn't conflict with one another. He had enough room for it all.

Out of respect for everyone's sadness, they'd been keeping their relationship relatively quiet. Ron was balancing both grief for Fred and excitement over Hermione, and he didn't want to risk his family misunderstanding that. As a result, he still hesitated before each kiss, just to look around and make sure no one would see.

Then George brought it up.

"Fred and I would make bets with one another. There was one that never got resolved," he said, staring directly at Ron.

He looked like he expected Ron to respond, so he did. "What was the bet?"

George motioned between him and Hermione with his butterbeer. "You two."

"What about us?" asked Ron nervously.

"Are you together?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance, and the grins that spread across their faces gave their answer away.

"Good," said George. "Who kissed who?"

Ron looked back at George with wide eyes. "You bet on that?"

George nodded. "I reckoned you'd be the one to pluck up the courage and kiss her. Fred figured it'd be Hermione."

Ron could feel his face reddening, Hermione smiled smugly in his peripheral vision.

"So," said George, a little impatiently. "Who won the bet?"

"Erm, Fred won," answered Ron.

"Bugger! He always wins," said George, looking at Hermione with a hint of admiration. "Ron, why didn't you kiss her?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but paused, unsure exactly how to answer. Hermione filled the silence.

"He hesitated," she said, smirking. "So I took my opportunity."

George smiled. "Of course he did. I'm happy for you both. Fred would be too."

Ron looked at Hermione, and she slipped her hand into his. He wanted to kiss her, but was still unsure if it'd be in bad taste.

George didn't seem to think so. "Well don't hesitate, just kiss her," he said, alleviating Ron of his uncertainty.

Hermione smiled as Ron reached a hand behind her head and gently guided her lips to his. Number eleven. He heard a chorus of "awws", whistles, and even a groan from Ginny. .

Now everyone knew. Did this mean he could kiss her whenever he wanted? If so, he would. He could no longer count their kisses on his fingers, and he couldn't wait to start losing track of them.