Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: "Apparently all of our friends have a bet that we'll end up together." 6th year AU. Written for the lovely Folk-melody.

Just Kiss Me Already

The start of sixth year brought along many familiar responsibilities for Ron, like continuing his Prefect duties. The new year also stirred up an unfamiliar emotion that he couldn't quite place when he thought about his best friend, Hermione.

They were returning to the common room following a standard patrol through the corridors, and as usual they walked together in silence, naturally leaving Ron with plenty of time to contemplate their complicated relationship.

Lately, he had noticed Hermione acting differently towards him. He often caught her looking at him with a puzzled expression on her face, like he was a riddle she was trying to solve. When they strolled side by side down the halls, occasionally their hands would brush together, often resulting in Hermione leaping away from him as quickly as she could.

He tried not to take it personally — like he were infected with Spattergroit — but it was fucking hard not to when she kept acting so squirly.

On some level, Ron was aware that his friendship with Hermione was very different from his friendship with Harry. He tried to attribute it to the fact that Hermione was a girl, and that naturally, it never would quite be the same.

However, he'd be mental if he didn't acknowledge to himself that there was a reason why he wanted to stand so close to her in the halls. There was also a reason why he always looked forward to whenever they patrolled the halls together, even if she spent the entire time pestering him about a class assignment.

Ron was so deep in thought he barely registered that they were walking through the portrait hole until they were standing in the center of the room that was buzzing with entertainment on a Friday evening.

He found Seamus, Dean, Harry, Neville, and Ginny all gathered around the fireplace. They were hunched over a small table in the center of the group. When Ron squinted his eyes, he could barely make out the appearance of various shiny gold, silver, and bronze coins scattered about the table.

"What are you lot doing?" Ron called out to them. He exchanged glances with Hermione, who only rolled her eyes and shrugged in response.

"Placing bets," Seamus grinned. He opened his mouth to say more when Dean nudged him back into silence.

"Oh yeah? On what? I want in!" Ron was so eager to partake in the wager, that he missed the skittish glances that his friends shared with each other.

"Honestly, Ron?" Hermione clucked her tongue in disapproval.

"Maybe you should listen to Granger over there," Dean piped up.

"Yeah, you don't want in on this bet," Harry concurred, giving Ron a warning look. "Trust me."

Ron crossed his arms, thoroughly annoyed by the secrecy. "And why not?"

"Hey, Potter, I bet you a sickle that you can't admit to Ron what we were betting on." Seamus cackled with laughter as Ron watched his best mate grow red in the face.

Beside Ron, Hermione let out a loud huff. "I, for one, have zero interest in this rubbish. Now if you all don't mind, I'm going to bed before you come up with another clever idea to break a ton of school rules."

Hermione narrowed her eyes over at the group before turning to Ron and giving him a sharp nod. "Goodnight."

Ron waved a weak hand towards her as he watched her retreating form, her robes and bushy hair swishing behind her until she disappeared up the staircase.

Someone nearby cleared their throat, and Ron snapped his head back towards the large group, who were all watching him with smirks on their faces.

"Oh, piss off," Ron mumbled. He strode towards them with purpose and slouched down into the nearest empty chair. "Now, who am I going to have to convince to tell me what the hell you're betting on?"

The next morning, Hermione was in a decidedly good mood as she bounced down the steps towards the Gryffindor common room. She had just spent two hours studying up in her dormitory, relishing in the quiet after her dorm mates left for breakfast.

The common room was bustling with action when she arrived, and she immediately spotted her two best friends duking it out over a chess board in the corner of the room.

Hermione made eye contact with Ron, and her heart fluttered. She wondered if she imagined the way his ears turned pink once he saw her.

Was he blushing?

The moment was over before she could process it, and in the next instant she could hear Harry's loud groan as a signal of Ron's defeat.

The two boys stood up and joined Hermione. She made a note of how Ron was avoiding her suspicious gaze.

"Ready for lunch?" Harry questioned, looking between his two friends.

Hermione glanced down at her wristwatch. "Oh, is it lunchtime already? I suppose I lost track of time when I was upstairs—"

"Reading." Both Harry and Ron finished for her with matching knowing smiles.

Hermione tilted her head towards Ron. "So, did you ever figure out what the bet was last night?"

Ron started moving, seeming eager to leave the room. "Oh, er, it was nothing. They were just taking the mickey."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Really? Cause it seemed like—"

"Nothing to be concerned about, I promise." Ron offered her a tight-lipped smile, and trudged forward.

Hermione stopped all movement just before stepping out of the portrait hole. She narrowed her eyes on Ron. "Okay, what are you not telling me?"

"I'm-I'm not…" Ron was entirely too flustered for Hermione to believe that the bet had to do with nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry slowly retreating backwards, which only made her even more frustrated.

"You are, and it is absolutely infuriating that you think you can get away with lying to me, Ron Weasley!"

Ron shifted his eyes around the room and lowered his voice. "Hermione, keep your voice down—"

"I will not!" She shouted back, not caring that the common room had grown quiet to listen to their flaming row. "Not until you tell me what this so-called bet was about."

"Do we really have to do this here?" Ron asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes, we do, and the sooner you spit it out, the sooner we can—"

Ron closed his eyes, and spoke at a rapid pace. "Apparently all of our friends have a bet going that we'll end up together."

"And just because you think — wait, what?'

Hermione's heart was racing in her chest, and she felt as if she could pass out. The lack of food in her growling stomach didn't help.

All of our friends have a bet going that we'll end up together.

"You heard me," Ron growled, lowering his head enough that his fringe fell into his eyes.

"I did, but...you're certain?" By the amused looks on the faces of those around them, she worked out pretty quickly that he was most definitely telling the truth.

"Oh." Hermione couldn't see her own face, but she could feel the heat. "And what do you think?"

Ron sent her a challenging gaze. "What do you think?"

"Just bloody kiss already!" Seamus's booming voice echoed from somewhere across the room, making Ron's scarlet cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. "Is that what you want? To kiss me?"

"Is that what you want?" Ron lifted an eyebrow.

It was maddening how he kept answering her questions with a question. Reason #1 one out of a slew of reasons as to why getting involved with him wasn't a good idea.

On the other hand, there were just as many, even more, reasons as to why she should. One look at his handsome, hopeful face and she was sure of which direction she wanted the pendulum to swing. So, she placed her hands on her hips and stood straight, a wave of determination giving her the Gryffindor bravery she needed.

She didn't care if the whole house was watching.

"Ron. Please, just kiss me already."

It was as if time moved slowly from there, and Hermione held her breath as she observed Ron's gaze dart back and forth between her eyes and her lips. She licked them instinctively, preparing for what she hoped would come next.

Somewhere behind her, she heard whispers that she couldn't quite make out. Her palms were sweaty, Ron's eyes were darkening, and she made a sound from the back of her throat that she didn't even know she could make…

Then, Ron was kissing her. His over-sized hands were cupping her face, and he was kissing her.

Tentatively, she moved her bottom lip over his, taking a step closer as their kiss deepened. Hermione circled her arms around her neck, rising up on her tiptoes to even out the height difference.

Ron responded with increased enthusiasm, wrapping both arms around her waist and lifting her feet up off the ground, never once breaking free from her lips.

Cheers erupted all around them, and Hermione felt Ron grin against her lips. The celebratory applause only fueled their raging passion even more, and Ron dipped her head back.

His lips were warm, soft, and inviting, and Hermione found herself dizzy from the sensation of kissing him. It was a good thing Ron was holding her tight within his strong arms, for she would certainly have collapsed from her weakened knees.

"What is the meaning of all of this commotion?"

Ron's lips seized all movement at once, and he flipped Hermione back upright and took a cautious step back. His lips were swollen as he gazed at her in awe, and he was pleasantly flushed from snogging her.

Professor McGonagall pushed her way through the crowd that had formed, coming to a halt in front of them. She peered at them over her spectacles with wide eyes, appearing shell-shocked. "Mr. Weasley and...Miss Granger!"

"Pr-professor!" Hermione stuttered, reaching a hand up to smooth down her frizzy hair.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, mentally preparing herself for her punishment. Would McGonagall give them both detention? Would she take away house points? Worst of all, would they lose their Prefect badges? Her stomach dropped, hoping beyond all hope that their privileges wouldn't be taken away.

Much to her surprise, the Professor only eyed them both for a moment before turning on her heel. "Excuse me, I will be back. I just need to speak with Madame Pomfrey about something."

As McGonagall glided away, she muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like, "She owes me."