A/N: My giddy aunt, so embarrassed! Mr/Ms Anonymous, thank you! They were at the HALLOWE'EN BALL not the YULE BALL, in case anyone was confused by my blunders in the previous chapter (now fixed). I just wrote the chap in such a rush, and the two events kind of became synonymous in my mind…. ~98n6~ Shez … A note to JWBean – me? like John Mayer? I don't know how you would have got that impression. *wink*

~

Ron spent most of the day on his own. He didn't know where Harry and Ginny had gotten to after the game, and wasn't sure that he'd have wanted to join them anyway. He didn't think the conversation would be too stimulating. He couldn't go the library, in case Hermione was there, and in the end collected his books (yes, his school books, on a Saturday), and went to sit by the lake.

He actually got quite a bit of work done, considering. For a few hours, at least, he was able to push Hermione from his mind and focus on something practical, something that worked with your mind and your logic. It was a relief, to some degree.

A Defence essay, Care of Magical Creatures practical write-up and a Divination prediction later, the sun was easing away on the horizon. Very reluctantly, he packed up his things and headed for the castle. By the time he got there the day had packed it in completely, and it was cold twilight.

He managed to spend a couple of quiet hours in the Gryffindor dorm, reading an old quidditch annual, before Harry came thudding up the stairs and burst into the room. He went directly to Ron's bed, pulled back the curtains, and grinned at him, breathless.

"Coming down?" he asked.

"Coming down where?"

"Victory party. Common room. Come on."

Ron resisted the urge to face the other way. "I don't deserve to be part of the victory party," he mumbled. "I played like shite."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh for God's sake, it doesn't matter. We pulled through, didn't we? You don't have to sulk. We want you there." He paused. "Hermione's not coming, if that's what you're worried about. What's happening with you two? Did you fight again?"

Ron didn't say anything for a moment.

"Hermione might not be there," he said then, "but Ginny will. I won't have anyone to talk to."

Harry flushed a deep red, and then waved a hand at him. "Fine," he said. "Do what you like. There's food from the kitchens and everything, I got it myself."

He made to leave, and Ron frowned to himself. Harry was right. He didn't like sulking, and he didn't really like being by himself either. He decided he'd just go and see what it was like (see if he got pelted with Every-Flavour Beans, more like), and then decide whether or not to stay.

When he came down the stairs there was a general roar from the crowd and he was almost knocked over by a sudden rush of Gryffindors, all patting him on the back and shouting their congratulations. He managed to squeeze through them, and craned his neck to see the rest of the room. There were tables full of food and drink, courtesy of eager house-elves, and he could see various members of the team lolling about, lapping up the praise. For some reason, this party seemed bigger than their last win's had been. Maybe because this particular game had looked desperate from the beginning.

Because of him. Right.

He sighed, went to a food table, ate an éclair, didn't feel much better.

Ginny and Harry were sitting on a couch by the fire. They were holding hands, their fingers enlaced – Ron could see it from where he stood. They didn't seem to be saying much. Ginny looked happy, in a quiet, comfortable sort of way. Ron thought he might as well go over and say hello.

"Hi," he said when he reached them.

Harry looked like he might release her hand for a moment, but Ginny squeezed his, and he didn't.

"Er – hi Ron," he said. "You came."

"Yeah, I did."

Ginny eyed him. "You didn't play all that well today, did you?" she said frankly.

"Gee, thanks. My self-esteem just shot through the roof," he retorted.

Oh, who am I kidding? he thought, almost immediately afterwards, and dropped the sarcasm.

"OK, you're right," he said. "I played spectacularly badly. Sorry."

"A Weasley man admitting he was wrong – sort of." She shook her head in mock disbelief. "I never thought I'd see the day."
Harry grinned and leant back against the couch. "Come sit, Ron," he said, and then it was Ron's turn to shake his head.

"Ah – no thanks," he said. "You two look busy."
Harry flushed and Ginny flushed, and then they looked at each other and laughed. Ron started to walk away, and Ginny called out to him.

"Ron, hang on. If you want Hermione, she's up in her room. Said she didn't feel well. She could probably do with a bit of company."

"Oh, I – I can't," he began hastily, and Ginny looked quite sternly at him. She reminded him of their mother.

"Poor 'Mione is all alone in her room when we're all here …"

"She's probably got bloody Malfoy with her," he interrupted, coming back again, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Shut it, Ron. You're the only one who thinks she spends time with Malfoy for any reason beyond the fact that they're Heads together, and she's trying to be nice. She feels sorry for him. His mum's dead, his dad's a loony, and he has to live with people like you who'll never see him as anything but 'that Slytherin prat'."

Ron felt a swell of guilt rise up in his throat – it was entirely unfamiliar, particularly when in regards to Malfoy.

"I – that's not fair," he protested weakly. Ginny opened her mouth, and Harry cut in quickly.

"You know what, let's not argue," he said quietly. "Not tonight."

Ginny's expression visibly softened. "Right," she said. "Fine. Not tonight."
And they were so focussed on one another again that Ron felt patently unwelcome, and backed off.

He paced the common room for half an hour.

Then the Creeveys (including Dennis, who didn't appear to hold a grudge about being cut from the team) cornered him for a while, and gave him a play-by-play of the game.

Then Lavender managed to get hold of him and bat her eyelids a few more times, before Dean Thomas came up.

Then he considered going to sit with Harry and Ginny again, but decided against it almost immediately as Ginny's words rang out again in his head.

Go see Hermione.
Could he?

No, he thought firmly, grabbing a glass of pumpkin juice from the drinks table. No, I can't. What would I say? What will she say?

You should, said another voice. You should see what she thinks about what you said.

I know what she thinks.

No you don't.

I can guess.

But you can't be sure. And she's all alone in her room, and she doesn't fancy Mafloy –

Maybe Ginny's wrong.

For Merlin's sake, go and find out for yourself.

"You right?" said a voice. It was Seamus, cocking an eyebrow at him, and Ron's ears went bright red when he realised he'd been having an argument with himself like a crazy person.

"Er – fine," he muttered. "I'm fine."
Somehow, his mind was made up.

He was going to go and find Hermione.

Right now.

He took a long swig of pumpkin juice (as though this would sustain him in some way) and then slammed the glass down on the table.

"Well," Seamus said admiringly. "You look purposeful."

Ron didn't reply. He walked directly out of the common room instead, in the direction of the Head Students' quarters.

~

He went up her stairs very quietly, trying to maintain that certainty he'd felt a few minutes ago. It seemed to be fading the closer he came to her, but he held onto what determination he had left as best he could.

The first thing he saw was her door, slightly ajar as always.

The second thing was Malfoy's door, glowing with another Impervious Charm. Good. No matter how many personal problems Malfoy might have, Ron still didn't want him around.

He approached her room slowly, feeling his pulse throbbing in his head. He didn't know what he was going to say to her, but now that he was here, mostly just wanted to see her face. He missed her again – and he was pretty sure it was because she'd been so constantly in his thoughts.

Directly outside her door, he stopped, raised a fist to knock –

And then felt his courage desert him entirely.

He couldn't. He couldn't do it. Not after what she'd said, what he'd said, her silence, his idiocy, and why was he standing here anyway?

Just as he was about to make a quick escape, the door swung open from the inside, and Hermione was standing there looking at him.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said. She was wearing pyjamas, and her hair was up, and she looked so lovely that his heart leapt into his mouth.

There was a long, long silence.

"Come in," she said, and opened the door all the way.

He paused, and then did so. She shut the door behind him, and turned so that her back was against it. He faced her, a few metres away. He caught the Hermione-scent he'd been trying to remember all week, and any great words he might have had dried up.

"How's the party?" she asked eventually.

"Good."

"How're Ginny and Harry?"

"Er – happy."

"How're you?"

A brief pause.

How was he?

"I feel like shit," he admitted lowly, unable to look at her.

Another pause, and then he felt her move closer.

"Don't swear," she said softly. "What's the matter?"

"I – I went off at Malfoy. Sorry."

"Why don't you apologise to him?"

"I – can't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. And I wanted to see you, anyway."

The silence that followed this seemed agonisingly long. His eyes could not move from his feet. She was closer again, he felt that.

"Why don't you look up, then?" she said.

"Hermione …"

"Look up."

Unable to resist her, he did so, but now she wasn't looking at him.

"Did I make a fool of myself at the Ball?"

"No," he protested urgently. "No, you didn't."

"I was drunk. I – I kissed you. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," he said fiercely. "Don't apologise for that."

Now she met his eye, and his heart was thudding so hard that he didn't know how it was still in his body, and suddenly he was brave again, and the words he had been wanting to say for weeks came out.

"'Mione," he said hoarsely, "when you kissed me, it was the best moment of my whole life. When you ran away – that was the worst moment, OK? I – what I said today – I meant it, and I just – I have to know – if you –" 

He trailed off, incoherent with urgency, his whole body tense with anticipation. He couldn't read her expression and Merlin, he wanted to.

"You stupid prat," she said eventually, voice trembling. He felt his stomach turn over, and wanted to run out of the room. He should have known …

"That's OK," he muttered, but she spoke over him.

"You stupid prat," she repeated. "Of course I do."

And with that, she threw herself at him, her arms around his neck slender and warm, feeling her breath on his skin. He held her, incredulous, unsure of what had just happened. Did she – were they –

"What did you say?" he said in her ear, and she pulled back a little to look him in the face.

"I'm sorry I didn't say before. I was – I don't know, I was scared. I didn't think you liked me, anymore, after the Ball. I mean, I thought you did before. Maybe. And then I thought – you might think I was – I don't know, a slag, or an idiot or something – and then you said today – and then I didn't know what to say back – and then –"

She stopped speaking with an effort, and he broke into a wide smile.

"Right," he breathed. "Wow."

She bit her lip and ducked her head a little, arms still around him, and he slid his hands from her back to her waist, loving that he could touch her like this. She leant into him, and there was a long silence while they held each other, savouring this moment, storing it up. Ron felt a sharp, clear understanding that this was a point they could not turn back from, and in his mind's eye saw the way they used to be fading slowly into memory.

There would be no circling this time.

"Hermione," he said after a while, and she lifted her head from his shoulder.

"Yes?"

He swallowed. "Could I kiss you, please?"

"Alright," she replied quietly, and he leant forward to touch her lips with his. It was different from last time – last time she kissed him, and it was sort of desperate. This time he didn't feel that sense of borrowed moments, and it was soft and deliberate and sweet.

"Merlin," she said, when he pulled away from her. "OK."

"When you kissed me at the Ball," he replied, "I think that was the second-best moment of my life."

She smiled slowly, and tilted her head to one side.

"Do that again," she said.

He did.

~

*contented sigh*

Happy?

I am.

*even more contented sigh*

~nm3x5s~ Shez