A/N – First thing's first, congrats to Jessika Organa Solo on your engagement!! Very exciting!! *sighs happily* I love weddings. And I'm glad you're all enjoying this :)… ~the breath that you're finished with~ Shez  PS – J&R forever, Meegs! PPS – Again, sorry about delay. Am doing my absolute best, I promise. Daily updates should be running again after this weekend.

~

"We're disgusting, mate," Ron said.

Harry was standing with his hands in his pockets, stamping his feet a little to get warm.

"Why are we disgusting?" he asked, clearly confused.

"We're like – well, what happened to swinging bachelorhood, that's what I want to know," he said.

They both turned their heads. Hermione was helping Ginny with Advanced Cheering Charms out on the snow-covered grass (that hadn't wanted to disturb anybody), and they were clutching each other and laughing. Ron felt his heart do that thing again – that thing it did whenever he saw her and remembered that she was his, in a way.

She noticed him watching and gave a little wave, before bursting into another round of giggles.

When he glanced at Harry, his friend was giving him a knowing look.

"We might be disgusting," he said, "but would you want it any other way?"

"Ah – no," Ron admitted. "No. This is – good."

"Yeah."

It was late on a Friday afternoon, almost three weeks since the quidditch game, and Ron was beginning to settle into this idea of him and Hermione being together. He wasn't so aware of himself when he was with her in public. He wasn't so nervous of what she'd think of him. He wasn't nervous of what other people thought, either. He just felt glad, and comfortable – and like an indescribably lucky bastard too, that this girl could possibly want him as her boyfriend.

It was the beginning of December, and snow was setting in at Hogwarts. Ron liked winter, and the cold. He liked that feeling of his face being nipped in sharp breeze, and the sound his boots made on the ground. Simple things, but sweet, and they reminded him of Christmas and pudding and hours talking around a fire, wrapped in blankets.

"Here they come," Harry said, startling him out of his thoughts. "Thank Merlin, I'm freezing."

"We could have gone inside," Ron pointed out, and Harry shook his head.

"What, and looked like poonces? They'd have laughed us out of the common room."

"True."

Ginny was ahead of Hermione, taking big strides over the snow. She still had a grin on her face from the charms, and put her arms around Harry's neck when she reached him.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," he replied, putting his arms around her waist. "Are you done?"

"Why, are you cold?"

"No," he said immediately. "We're fine."

"Let's go have dinner."

Harry and Ginny started off, but Ron waited a little longer for Hermione to catch up. She broke into a smile when she reached him, and held her hand out. He took it, and they went after the other two, not speaking.

She seemed to like holding his hand, quite a lot. At odd moments, just walking beside her in the corridors, or at breakfast, he'd find her sneaking her hand into his, very quietly, as thought hoping he wouldn't notice. He did notice, of course – he loved that she did it, and almost wanted to tell her how much he loved it.

Then again, if he told her, it wouldn't be quite the same. He kept his mouth shut instead.

"Well," she said, and leant against him.

He walked slower. "Well," he agreed.

"It's lovely when it snows, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Reminds me of being at home."

"Does it?"

"Mm."

"Do you miss the Burrow when you're here?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I miss it of course, but Hogwarts is like home anyway. And Harry's here, and Ginny, and you …" He trailed off, ears reddening, and she smiled sideways at him. "What about you?" he went on hastily. "Do you miss home?"

"No," she said simply. "I miss Mum and Dad, but I don't miss home. It's funny. I feel like I belong here more than I do in the place I grew up."

"Do you think you could ever marry a Muggle?" he asked casually, but somehow extremely interested to hear the answer. She was silent for several moments before replying.

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose if I loved him. But not if he didn't want me to be a witch. That'd be the same as – I don't know, cutting off my legs or something, taking away a part of myself. I couldn't live like that."

"Right." He wasn't sure how exactly he should respond, because just the thought of Hermione marrying someone else (Muggle or no) made his blood boil.

"What about you?" she asked. "Would you marry a Muggle?"

"I don't even know any Muggles, only Harry's, and they're not much good. But I suppose – the same as you."

She sighed, and her breath froze in the air.

"It's funny," she murmured, all trace of amusement vanishing from her voice. "We're thinking about marriage and things, and we don't even know if there'll be people to get married to when we reach that point."

"How d'you mean?" Ron asked, alarmed, and she looked at him.

"Voldemort," she said.

Voldemort. Somehow, he'd managed to forget, but now felt a hard surge of anger thinking of him.

Bloody Voldemort. Ruining everything he touched – ruining even the idea of the future.

"I think about it, you know," she said quietly. "I think about what might happen to us. To Harry." She paused, and then added quickly: "To you, because wherever Harry is, you'll be there too. It worries me that we haven't heard from him in so long."

"'Mione," he said uneasily. "You shouldn't think about all that."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't help to think about it, not until it happens."

"I know it doesn't help, but I can't stop myself."

"You have to," he insisted. "You'll go mad. Focus on other things."

"Like what?"

"I don't know – these things," he said, squeezing her hand briefly. "Good things."

She stopped, and he stopped with her. With her free hand, she tucked a piece of escaped hair back underneath his beanie, and then touched the side of his face. Her lips were a faint blue, but her hands were warm. He put his free hand on the side of her face, his little finger brushing her ear. He wasn't thinking about Voldemort anymore – and for some reason, he didn't think she was either.

"Oi!" Harry shouted from the Great Hall entryway, and they both dropped hands from one another's faces. Ron thought how strange they must have looked, and couldn't quite meet Harry's eye.

"Are you coming or not?" Ginny called, holding onto Harry from behind, and Ron nodded shortly.

"Let's go," he said.

Hermione nodded too.

"OK."

They went into dinner.
~

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until Wednesday morning, when Hermione came down to breakfast and was different.

"Hi," he said, moving over so that she could sit next to him.

"Hi," she replied, taking the free place, but not touching him, not looking at him.

"What?" he asked, and she frowned down at her plate.

"Nothing," she said, in a tone that meant: It's something important.

Ron glanced at Harry. He was talking to Ginny, completely oblivious. Ron leant towards Hermione again, and lowered his voice.

"Tell me," he insisted. She looked up and smiled at him, but it was clearly an effort.

"I'm fine," she said firmly. "Just tired."

"Hermione …"

"Honestly."

"You're sure?"

"Sure."

"Sure, sure?"

"Absolutely."
Reluctantly, he went back to his breakfast, peeking at her whenever he could. There was a strange set to her mouth, like she wanted to say something, but wasn't going to. She left the Hall soon after, with vague claims about needing to research in the library before class.

He tackled Ginny (in a non-literal sense) as soon as Harry had to stop talking and eat something.

"What's up with 'Mione?" he said.

Ginny looked shifty. "Oh – I don't know."

"Don't give me that," he said, pointing a finger at her. She slapped it away.

"Stop it," she said irritably. "OK, something's wrong."

"What, just this morning? She was fine yesterday."

"We had a bit of a talk last night."

"Well, what then?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because she wants you to figure it out for yourself."

There was a pause while Ron digested this, and then he turned his eyes to his plate despairingly.

"Bloody hell. I'm no good at this kind of thing."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said blithely, mouth full. "It's probably just that time of the month, and you're supposed to be sensitive about it."

"Harry!" Ginny said.

"What?" he asked innocently.

She stared at him for a few moments, and then groaned.

"I'm going to find some girls to talk to," she said.

"Gin …"

She was gone before Harry could get another word out. He looked a bit worried, but Ron couldn't sympathise. He was desperately racking his brains for wherever he'd gone wrong – or whatever it was that had slipped his mind. If Hermione was upset about it, it had to be something important, but he couldn't pick it for the life of him.

Seamus threw himself down beside Ron, and immediately got stuck into some bacon and eggs. Ron ignored him, lost in thought, but pretty soon had to give in to the Irish boy's persistent nudges.

"What?" he said sharply.

Seamus looked hurt, and Ron sighed.

"Sorry," he muttered. "What's up?"

"You and Hermione, then?" he said, grinning slowly, and already recovered from Ron's rudeness.

"Yeah."

"Took you long enough."

Funny how everybody said that. Ron just grunted, and didn't hear what Seamus said next. "Pardon?" he asked, trying to be polite, and Seamus repeated himself.

"You asking her to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah. First Hogsmeade weekend this year. Apparently Dumbledore wasn't going to let us this year, because of – well, You-Know-Who and all that, but it's a treat for Christmas. Didn't you know?"

"No," Ron said, wheels cranking forwards in his head. "I didn't."
He thought for a moment. Hogsmeade. This weekend. And he hadn't asked her yet.

"Shit!" he said loudly and elbowed Harry.

"What, what?"

"Have you asked Gin to Hogsmeade with you?"

"Yeah," Harry said immediately. "Asked her yesterday afternoon. First date. I'm bloody nervous."

"Right."

Understanding dawned on Harry. "You haven't asked Hermione?" he said incredulously.

"I didn't know."

"How could you not?"

"I – I don't know."

The truth was, she distracted him. He wasn't very focussed these days.

The more he thought about it, about her face when she left the Hall, about the whole first date issue, the worse he felt. Quite abruptly, he stood.

"Where are you going?" asked Seamus.

"Library," he said. "Have to fix this."

He departed at a half-run – but not before heard Seamus' wondering murmur:

"Now that is a man lost to love."

~

The library was quiet this early in the day, and dust motes spun in the cold air. He rubbed his hands together and went as unobtrusively as he could past the librarian's desk, but she still gave him a suspicious eyeing.

He scanned the desks, but couldn't spot her, and went looking along the aisles. After fifteen minutes, there was still no sign, and he was beginning to think that she might have gone to class already when he noticed a figure standing at the intersection of two shelves, partly in shadow. It was her, he knew that. He recognised her body, and felt his heart thud painfully as he made his way over to her.

"Hey," he said, and she started, touching her forehead nervously when she realised it was him.

"Merlin. Don't do that."

"Sorry. I wanted to come find you."

"OK." She paused, and put the book she was holding back into place. "I'm fine, you know."

"I know." He swallowed. "I want to ask you something."

"Alright."

"And – I'm sorry I didn't ask before."

"What is it?"

"Come to Hogsmeade this weekend with me?" he blurted.

Her eyes widened, and then she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Did Ginny tell you to come and say that to me?" she challenged.

He shook his head adamantly.

"No. I – someone mentioned a Hogsmeade weekend, and I didn't even realise it was on before, and then I thought – I wanted to ask you – ah –"

"What?" she asked, her expression softening. "To go with you?"

"Yeah. On a – you know, like a date?"

She raised her eyebrows. "A date?"

"Yeah."

"A proper date?"
He nodded again, mutely. He knew she was his girlfriend, and that asking your girlfriend to go out was perfectly normal, but this was different. This was going out going out – sitting with her in a restaurant or something, showing her off, telling the world "Hey, this girl's with me", and the thought of her refusal made him feel a bit ill.

"I'd love to," she said, after what seemed a very long time, and he let go of the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Right," he said. "Good. We'll find somewhere – I mean, I will. I'll find somewhere nice."

"Not that frilly place, OK?" she said. "Somewhere else."

"Sure. Somewhere else."

"Ron – thank you for asking." She smiled widely, and he smiled back, pleased that she was pleased, nerves tingling already in anticipation.

She reached up and straightened his tie for him, and then touched his chin. He couldn't stop himself – didn't want to stop himself – and leant forward to kiss her lightly on the lips. She slid her arms around his neck, and he kissed her again, harder, deciding at that very moment that he wasn't going to class. He was going to stay right here and kiss Hermione for a while, and then go back to bed, and then kiss her some more, and then –

She came closer to him, her body pressed up against his, and the thoughts went out of his head. He was all feeling and sensation, all warmth and throb and heartbeat and things getting out of control in the wrong places. Why did she feel this good? Her lips tasted like orange juice from breakfast.

She made a sound into his mouth, and then, as he put his hands on her hips, pulled back quickly, away from him. She took a steadying breath and he leant against a shelf and tried to do the same, glad at that moment for his heavy winter robes.

"Sorry," she said hoarsely. "I – sorry."

"That's alright. That was – fine."

Making out with Hermione, even in these brief moments, was intoxicating. He felt dizzy. They didn't get to do it too often (didn't get to do it enough, in his opinion), because it was difficult to be entirely alone with her in this school. So far they'd been limited to sound, singular kisses … and a few incidents like this, in which they were distinctly alone, and something wild got the better of them both.

"We should go to class," she said eventually, softly, and he nodded, slightly calmed.

"Yeah. OK."

They left the library side by side – and it wasn't until they were halfway down the corridor that he realised her hand had found its way into his again.