Bloody Hell, She's Good

A/N: As always, thank you to everyone for reading and especially to those who have favorited, followed, and reviewed. The feedback is appreciated!

This moment is just a quick interlude, but I promise that I'll be back to normal length chapters soon; in fact, the next update is probably going to be long enough that I'll have to split it into two parts!

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a Happy Christmas as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacked them neatly away. Ron and Hermione left before he did; he hung back a little, because Cho was still there and he was hoping to receive a Merry Christmas from her.

"Should we wait for Harry?" Ron asked as he and Hermione checked that the coast was clear before leaving the Room of Requirement.

Hermione glanced back over her shoulder then quickly turned her head back to Ron, a shrewd smile on her face.

"No, I think that's the last thing we should do," she replied, subtly shaking her head. She pulled him out of the room by his elbow and they started down the hallway, pausing at the next intersection to check for signs of Umbridge. Ron, meanwhile, looked thoroughly perplexed.

"What are you on about? He's our best mate!"

"You're a good friend to him, Ron, but sometimes you can be a bit thick," Hermione said with a laugh.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, still bewildered.

"Did you happen to notice who else was still in the room when we left?"

"No. Pretty much everyone had gone. Harry's probably going to have to walk back by himself now."

Hermione rolled her eyes before looking back up at him.

"Cho! Cho was just standing around…waiting. Almost like she wanted some time alone with Harry."

"You reckon?"

"It was pretty obvious," Hermione replied, trying to hold back another smile.

Ron's eyes grew wide as he looked away from her, trying to hide his face. Now that she had spelled it out for him, it did make sense. But how was she able to figure all of that out from just one look around? Ron knew Harry better than anyone and he certainly knew that Harry fancied Cho. But he never would've made the assumption that Harry was staying behind to try to be alone with her. Ron knew he was good at chess, but Harry was the one thinking three steps ahead this time.

Why can't I figure out those kinds of things? he thought to himself. Imagine how useful it would be. Especially since girls certainly never bloody well say what they mean.

More than anything, he wished he could read the thoughts of one particular witch. He looked up at her, resigned to confusion, and sighed.

"I suppose," he finally offered.

"Well, I'm happy for Harry. He's had such a difficult year dealing with Umbridge and having Quidditch taken away from him. He deserves to have something good happen to him for a change. Don't you think so?"

Ron blinked several times, snapping himself out of his depressing thoughts.

"Erm, yeah, reckon he does. Good for Harry."

They continued to walk back towards Gryffindor Tower in silence, pausing periodically to peek around corners. Ron suddenly found it difficult to talk with her, unsure if he might let something slip that would give away an element of his infatuation. Until he had at least some idea how she felt about him, he couldn't risk her knowing how he felt about her. What if she didn't feel the same way? Hermione certainly wouldn't be one to take the mickey or laugh at him, but it would permanently damage their relationship and any prospects for its advancement. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stand the constant looks of pity from her in that scenario. And the alternative? Ron's mind wouldn't even let him entertain the possibility that she did have those types of feelings for him.

As they climbed back through the portrait hole, Ron groaned, remembering that he still had an essay to write for Transfiguration before he could go to sleep.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as they settled into the large, inviting armchairs by the fireplace.

"Haven't even started the essay for McGonagall yet," he replied.

"That's not what I meant. You don't seem like yourself all of a sudden," she observed.

Bloody hell, she's good, Ron thought.

"Sorry. Just wish it were Christmas already."

Hermione smiled at him as she pulled out a scroll of parchment herself and began writing.

"Did…did you already do the essay?" Ron tentatively asked her.

"I did," she replied without looking up.

"Well, do you think you coul-"

"Ronald, at least try to start on your own first," she interrupted him, staring at him through narrowed eyes.

Ron sighed again and stared down at the blank parchment, completely unenthusiastic about the daunting task in front of him.

A TEASPOON? REALLY?

Hermione had been right about Harry and Cho. She had been exactly right.

Ron lay in his bed, indignant and frustrated, unable to fall asleep for the last hour. His anger over her insult faded quickly, replaced by one nerve-racking thought.

How could she always be right?

This wasn't like their classes. There was no book she could be studying from to somehow understand all of these secret signals that teenagers send to each other. He had always thought of Hermione as book smart but was now realizing just how good she was at reading people as well. She really was the brightest witch of their age.

If she's figured out what Harry and Cho were thinking that easily, imagine how much of my thought process she might understand. We're together constantly. I'm going to have to be more careful.

He was also still fuming about the letter she had been writing to Krum. Why couldn't that great oaf just leave her alone? He lived halfway around the globe, was famous throughout the wizarding world, and still had to talk with her?! There had to be plenty of girls who would be his girlfriend if he asked. Why couldn't he just pick any of them and stop writing to Hermione and bugger off for good?

He knew, of course, that their correspondence went both ways. Since their row after the Yule Ball, he had tried not to relive his jealousy towards Krum, at least not in front of Hermione. But the idea of their ongoing relationship dispirited him just as much as it bothered him. He wondered if she would write to him if they were ever apart for a long period of time.

Of course she would. She has, he rationalized with himself. Every time we go home over the summer, we've kept in touch.

But she had still gone to the ball with him. One of the best moments in fourth year was when she had told him that, had he asked her first, she would've gone with him. But he hadn't and therefore she didn't.

The most unsettling question in Ron's mind revolved around the precise nature of her ongoing relationship with Viktor. Was she his girlfriend? She had passed up the opportunity to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer. That had made Ron happy. Instead, she had come to Grimmauld Place to spend most of the summer with the Weasley family. That had made Ron extremely happy and more than a little smug. She had kissed him on the cheek earlier in the year before the first Quidditch match, and while he knew that that couldn't have meant anything (he had been a nervous wreck at the time, after all), Ron had thought about that moment every day since.

But she kept writing to Viktor. Not just quick notes, either. Letters that were longer than Ron's essays. Compositions that flowed over multiple scrolls of parchment. How much could she possibly have to say to him?

A small part of him thought he should simply let it be. It really wasn't his business.

There was a small package, however, currently hidden in the bottom of his trunk, right at the foot of his bed. In this package, there was a gift. A gift for Hermione. Christmas was approaching, and Ron had saved his money and chosen that gift after days of painstaking deliberation. He had wanted to get her something that would show how much he valued her friendship, so he knew he would have to find something expensive. He had tried to borrow some money from Fred and George, but had quickly recanted his request when they started asking too many questions. Eventually, they did end up giving him a few Galleons, but only after he'd agreed to test out some of their newest products. He had gone to bed with a nosebleed every night for a week, but it had been worth it.

He had also wanted to choose something that she would only receive from someone who she thought of as slightly more than a friend. Something a bloke would get for a girl. Something nobody else she knew would think to get her. Most years, he had just gotten her candy which she rarely ate, or a new book which she had probably already read. This year, he had vowed to do better.

Ultimately, he had chosen perfume. He had been able to sneak away during their last trip to Hogsmeade to choose the perfect bottle.

But perhaps it had been a bad idea. In light of his revelation about Hermione's powers of deduction, he was worried that his gift might be too…forward. She might read things into it. Things that, although they were certainly true, he didn't want her to know about just yet. Or, worse yet, things that she felt for Krum instead of him.

Before that night, he had been excited for her to open his gift on Christmas morning. He hadn't known what to expect, although the thought that she might be impressed was irresistible. But was it even worth it? He found himself going in circles, trying to convince himself back and forth in both directions. After turning things over and over again in his mind over the next hour or two, he finally arrived at his conclusion.

However she interprets things, it's time for a leap of faith.