A/N – *sigh* Yes, fluff is nice. Actually, I'm Australian (in response to JWBean's question), so not a Brit … just one of those little colonies in the back of beyond, hehe. Anyhoo, enough of this talk. Here's the next chap, ~check it out~.

~

On Saturday morning Ron re-read the letter Fred had sent him. Ron had written asking for advice about where to take Hermione in Hogsmeade, and the response had come almost immediately.

Dear Ronnie

Lovely to hear from you old chum. We're both splendid, thank you for asking (even though you didn't). The shop is running nicely. I bought my first suit yesterday, can you believe it? Angelina says it makes me look distinguished, and if that's her bag, then I can live with it.

On to business – do not take the girl to Madam Puddifoot's. That can only be a mistake, and though I had quite a lovely snog there once, it's not much fun generally. And knowing Hermione, she'd hate it. There's a little restaurant a few streets away, on the corner. I can't remember what it's called (I don't know if it's called anything, actually), but it's not frilly or too expensive, and they do a ripper lunch menu. Plus it's quiet, and not a favourite with the Hogwarts crowd. Nice and private, if you get my drift. You'll know it when you see it. They've got a sign with a picture of an upside-down man hanging outside.

Good luck, boy-o, let me know when you're getting some.

Fred.

PS – George says don't wear one of your maroon jumpers. I can't think why, they do wonders for your figure. Cheerio.

Ron folded the thing up and shoved it in his jeans' pocket. He wasn't wearing a maroon jumper, and had opted for a black one instead. Ginny gave it to him last Christmas with claims that he needed more variety. Over that he wore his coat, and a scarf. It was bloody freezing out and about.

It was also the day before everyone was going home for holidays. Some had set off already. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny had (strangely enough) opted to stay at school for the break. They'd have a week and a half to laze – Harry and Ginny were already making plans to fly out every day.

Why they'd want to fly in winter, Ron couldn't fathom. It probably wasn't much to do with quidditch, though.

At that moment, Ron was waiting in Hermione's room. It still felt a little strange to be allowed in there like that, but he wasn't complaining. She was in the bathroom. He stood by her bureau and looked at the photo of the two of them and Harry. Harry was grinning into the distance, but they were staring at each other, and photo-Ron had just leant forward to kiss photo-Hermione when the real one came out of the bathroom smelling like soap.

"Ready?" she said brightly.

He turned and blinked at her. Even all wrapped up in winter clothes she was beautiful. In fact the more he looked at the clothes, the more he wanted them to be gone, and he had to force himself to concentrate.

"Ready," he said.

She was fumbling with her scarf, and he came over.

"Let me," he said, taking both ends of the scarf from her, and knotting it as neatly as he could around her neck. She smiled at him, and when he was done, kissed him lightly.

"Thanks. Let's go. Where're Harry and Ginny?"

"Don't know. Think they went ahead."

"Ah."

Even he could tell she was trying not to look pleased.

Once they were outside, Hermione linked her arm through his and moved a bit closer to him.

"It's freezing," she muttered.

"I know."

"Where are we going?"

"Hogsmeade."

"Very funny. Where exactly?"

"Ah – not sure. Fred mentioned this place …"

Hermione gave him a look, and he shrugged helplessly.

"I know, but I think it's alright. He's settled a bit – both of them have. Fred's living with Angelina, did you know?"

"No I didn't. What about George?"

"He's living there too. Still messing around …" Hermione gave him another look, and he went on hastily. "I mean, still seeing different girls. You know."

"Right. So what's this place then?"

She'd be even less impressed if he said that he didn't know it's name – or if it even had one. He hoped against hope that it was decent, and that Fred wasn't pulling his leg.

"It's a surprise," he said.

"Oh."

It wasn't a lie. It would be a surprise.

~

There weren't too many Hogwarts students walking the streets of Hogsmeade, for which Ron was grateful. It seemed like he never got proper time alone with Hermione, and he had a feeling this was about as close as he was going to get for the time being. He liked the way her hands felt in gloves, and the way she kept hold of his arm as though she didn't want to lose him.

"Come on," he said purposefully, passing Madam Puddifoot's. Inside were various pale and nervous couples, sharing tables over which floated doves and lace.

"Thank God," Hermione murmured, clearly relieved.

"Don't be silly," Ron said stoutly. "I wouldn't take you in there."

Lucky he hadn't taken her in there.

They wandered a few streets down, Ron scanning the shops as he went, but he couldn't find this restaurant anywhere. He was beginning to worry, and Hermione was beginning to chew her lip, when he finally spotted a sign swinging from an entryway, depicting a man standing on his head.

"Here it is," he said and swallowed. The place looked very small, and its exterior was rather dingy. Please don't let it be awful. Please don't let Fred have been a prick.

Hermione went in ahead of him, and stopped as soon as she saw the inside. Ron felt like punching himself, or maybe running back to the castle, and kept his eyes on his feet until he heard her say:

"Ron, it's perfect."

"Huh?"

He looked up and over her shoulder. It was larger inside that it appeared from the street, but not too large. The carpet was a warm red, and small wooden tables with elaborately carved legs stood upon it at various intervals. In the corner crackled a faintly-scented fire, and faded pictures hung on the walls. One couple were already eating. They weren't students, and Ron didn't recognise them.

He heard a small cough, and turned to his right. A woman was waiting patiently behind a stand reading 'Here for Service'.

"Er – hello," he said, stepping past Hermione. "My name's Ron Weasley, I owled to book a table earlier this week."

"Of course." She glanced at a leather-bound book in front of her, and then made a mark with a quill against the page. "How are we today?"

"Fine, thank you," Hermione said, and Ron nodded.

"Lovely," said the woman. "Let me show you to your table."

They were seated near the fire, some distance from the other couple, and their table had a china vase at its centre, with winter wild-flowers. Ron didn't recognise them, but he knew his Mum sometimes had them in the house. He and Hermione sat opposite one another as the woman placed menus in front of them, and then disappeared.

There were a few moments of silence, and then Hermione sighed. Ron looked at her. She seemed happy, and was smiling at a picture on the wall.

"Is it alright?" he asked, and she fixed her gaze on him. It made him feel tingly, and a bit ill, and hot and cold at once. How did she still do this to him?

"It's great," she said softly. "Thank you for asking me."

"Well – thank you for coming," he returned awkwardly.

Another brief silence.

"I wonder where Harry and Ginny are?" Ron said, and Hermione smiled again.

"I'm not sure they even came, actually. Ginny was saying they might just stay at Hogwarts for the day."

"OK." Ron could understand that. Privacy was a precious commodity. "Well, good.

"Why is it good?" she asked teasingly, and he shrugged.

"I – don't know. I like having you all to myself."

"Me too. I like having you to myself, too."

Ron found himself smiling back at her, and then she was flushing and turning her eyes to her menu. "Come on," she said. "What are we going to eat?"

They had some French thing with beef. Ron had no idea what it was, but Hermione seemed confident, and it was nice once he was eating it. They didn't talk much over their food, but every now and again he'd glance at her. He felt anxious. He hoped she was enjoying this.

When they were done, Ron sat back in his chair. He felt pleasantly sleepy from the meal and the fire. Hermione put an elbow on the table – in an unusual breach of table manners – and leant her cheek against her palm.

"This is nice," she said. "Thank you."

"Stop thanking me."

"Stop stopping me. You said Fred told you about this place?"

"Yeah."

"He must have settled down, then. Probably Angelina."

"Probably. And the shop."

"How is the shop?"

"Good, he said."

"Good."

They looked at each other, and he was suddenly wordless. They went on looking and looking, and finally it was Hermione who spoke.

"Ron," she said.

"Yes?"

"I like being your girlfriend."

She flushed again, and Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Er – I like being your boyfriend."

He felt ridiculous, and elated, and he couldn't stop staring at her.

"What?" she said, noticing, and he shook his head as though to clear it.

"Nothing. I just – sometimes I still don't believe – that you'd want me –" He trailed off, and it was his turn to go red. She didn't say anything for a moment, and then leant forwards over the table. Automatically, he did the same. She spoke lowly, not quite meeting his eye.

"You should stop thinking you're not good enough," she said. "I hate it. You're as good as anyone, better than most, OK?"

"It's not true," he muttered, and here she met his eye.

"Don't," she said fiercely. "It is true."

There was a long, tense silence, and then Ron nodded shortly. It felt strange to have someone believe in him so – hard. He didn't know what to think of it.
She kissed him quickly over the table, and then sat back again.

"Do you want dessert?" he asked, his voice cracking, and she shook her head. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's get out of here, then."
~

Hermione wanted to go to the bookstore, but it was rather cramped inside, so Ron stayed out on the street. She promised she wouldn't be long, but knowing Hermione and books, he was in for a wait.

He didn't mind. He kept his hands in his pockets and thought about what she'd said.

"Weasley," came a voice from nearby. He looked up. Malfoy was standing there in a heavy brown coat. His hair wasn't slicked back today, and strands of it fell over his eyes.

"Hello," Ron said stiffly. The last words he'd spoken to him had been a month ago, at the quidditch match, when he'd told him to stay away from Hermione. They hadn't even said a word to one another at the D.A.

"Cold, isn't it?" the Slytherin commented, and Ron shrugged. Malfoy eyed him for a moment, and then sighed impatiently.

"I'm just trying to be civil," he said. "Is Hermione here?"

"Not 'Granger'?" Ron snapped.

"No," he retorted quickly, "but thank you for informing me of the girl's last name. I never would have picked it otherwise. Is she here?"

"Inside," Ron said. "Why?"

"I need to talk to her."

"About what?"

"Head Boy and Girl things, Weasley. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." He was almost snarling. He wished he could stop, but was completely irrational when it came to Malfoy.

Malfoy was briefly silent, and then shook his head.

"No," he said coolly. "I don't think I will."

He made to leave – much to Ron's relief – but then stopped and turned. He came very close to Ron, too close, and he had to resist the urge to step away.

"I know she's your girlfriend," Malfoy said quietly, "and that's fine. But don't ever threaten me like you did at the game again. Ever. Do you understand me?"

"No," Ron said, with as much sarcasm as he could muster up. "I don't think you're being clear."

Malfoy directed his eyes to his feet, and then raised them to meet Ron's again. They were fiery with anger, but his voice was smooth as silk. "Have a nice holiday," he said, and walked briskly away.

"What was that?" Hermione asked. Ron spun about. She was standing in the shop doorway, a package under her arm.

"What was what? I'll carry that."

He took her purchases from her even as she eyed him suspiciously.

"You and Malfoy should really make amends," she said, moving out onto the pavement. "Even he and Harry have managed it."

Ron didn't reply, and they began to walk along. He felt as though their date had been spoiled, with just one interruption from Malfoy. Hermione must have sensed this, because she hugged his arm.

"Sorry. Let's not even think about him," she said firmly. "Come on, we'll go and do something fun."

"Alright," Ron said. "OK, let's do something."

But Malfoy's words still lingered in the back of his mind – as did the glint in his eye when he'd said Hermione's name, and said that it was 'fine' she was Ron's girlfriend.

Because quite frankly, he hadn't looked fine at all.

~

A/N: Stole Fred's mention of the 'lovely snog' at Madam Puddifoot's from LavenderB's Johnson-Weasley fic. Hope that's alright :) … ~I'll be around~