A/N: Hello out there! I have had a plethora of lovely reviews, for both this fic and Aftermath in my absence. Rock on, guys, I love it. Had a FANTASTIC holiday too – I've got Buckley's of being awake before noon tomorrow, but it was all good. And now, I'm going to do my absolute best to punch out a new chap. Keep reading, sorry about the wait … ~no more 3x5s~ Shez   PS – Hey, check out the Oz band Cat Empire, and their awesome song 'Hello'. I don't think it's been released in the US or UK yet, but come on, see if you can find it – I dare you! S.

~

In all the haste and drama, Ron had almost forgotten about Malfoy. Strange – he used to be such a focus of Ron's every day (Where's the prat now? Is he looking at her? Maybe I can hit him, maybe I shouldn't, etc.) that not to be thinking of him was rather unusual. Malfoy hadn't even said a word about the missed duel. He'd given him a long, unreadable look the next morning, and sometimes in class he'd feel the Slytherin's eyes boring into his back, but Ron was beyond caring. He wasn't going to apologise for getting Malfoy up at midnight, for a duel he'd initiated.

Besides, he was spending his time doing better things that night.

It was, therefore, something of a shock to find him lurking, quite literally, in the owlery, early Valentine's morning.

Ron had gone in to pick up a package from the twins. He'd ordered everything he needed for Valentine's day (at a 25% family discount – he'd had to fight for it, but his brothers conceded eventually), and received a message the previous evening instructing him to retrieve the box in the morning.

He found it waiting in the Arrivals section, sealed with a fancy 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' label. He had to smile when he saw that, and his own name beneath it in gold gothic lettering. When you bought from the twins, at least you were buying quality.

Ron got out of his wand to perform the levitating charm, and then dropped it when he felt a tap on the shoulder.

He spun around, and almost stepped on his wand when he saw it was Malfoy. He looked as cool and unruffled as ever, and didn't bat an eyelid in the face of Ron's confusion.

"Er – what do you want?" Ron asked eventually, voice gruff.

"I wanted to have a word," Malfoy replied. "Got a moment?"

Ron had a very bad feeling about this, but the guy was being so polite that he didn't know how to respond.

"Fine," was what he managed to come up with. "I've got one."

There was a brief silence, and then Ron saw Malfoy, very slightly, grind his jaw.

"I'm sorry I came onto your girl," he said.

Ron was too stunned to speak for a little while.

"Pardon?"

"I said I'm sorry," Malfoy snapped. "And I'm not going to say it again."

He still didn't quite understand it.

"You're sorry?"

"Yes. Are you deaf, Weasley?"

Ron frowned. He felt very weirded out by the concept of an apologetic Malfoy.

"Why?" he asked, and Malfoy shrugged.

"You didn't come to the duel. You should have. But I was thinking, in the end, that I don't really want to fight you anyway. It's a childish tradition."

"Childish," Ron repeated. "The duel was a childish idea?"

"Yes." He paused. "I thought you'd probably ended up with your girlfriend, anyway."

A long, long silence this time.

"So we're even, alright?" Malfoy said then.

Ron bit his lip. They weren't even, nowhere close. Malfoy had been the world's rudest, proudest, nastiest bully for far too long, and Ron would not take his single, disdainful apology as repayment for all the bad things he'd done. But just the apology was so much more than he'd ever expected from Malfoy that he was taken aback.

"Not even," he said finally. "But – I'm sorry I didn't turn up for the duel, and I accept your apology."

Malfoy nodded once. "Good," he said, and turned to go.

Ron watched him a few moments, but then had to stop him before he could leave. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"I meant it when I said that I don't want you to harass Hermione again."

Malfoy's eyes glinted strangely, but again his face was set and impassive.

"Oh no," he said. "I won't."

His gaze ran lazily over the twin's parcel, and Ron was unable to prevent his ears from reddening. He raised his chin rather defiantly, and looked Malfoy full in the face.

"Have a nice evening," the Slytherin commented, and with that, spun on his heel and walked out, cloak flying around his shoulders.

It took Ron a little while to absorb the incident, and when he had, he was more confused than before. He didn't understand how Malfoy could go from wild anger to relatively mellow apology, after a period of such non-communication. His first thought was that he was planning something, setting him up for some kind of humiliation – and his second thought was exactly what Hermione would think of this conspiracy theory.

In the end, he pushed the issue from his mind. If Malfoy wanted to apologise, he could. That didn't mean Ron was going to like him, or loosen up about his relationship with Hermione. He decided he'd accept his apology, but continue to keep him at a definite arms length. Later, he'd ask Harry what he thought. Right now, he had more important things to organise.

That was it. Malfoy just didn't seem important in comparison to the other things in his life.

~

"Bloody hell, Ron," Harry said plaintively. He was lying on his bed, hands behind his head, watching Ron pull a jacket on. "You're going to give the rest of us blokes a bad name."

"Shut up," Ron said absently, fiddling with his hair in the mirror. "How do I look?"

"Spiffing. Marvellous. Gorgeous."

"Shut up," he said again, and jumped on his toes a couple of times. "Shit, I'm nervous."

"What have you got in there?" Harry asked, waving a hand at Ron's Wizard Wheezes box. "You're not giving her jokes for Valentine's day, are you?"

"Course not. And it's none of your business. What are you doing with Gin?"

Harry grinned. "Sneaking her out to Hogsmeade for dinner."

He hadn't mentioned this before, and Ron stopped to stare at him. "You are?"

"Yep. Thought it'd be fun."

"Are you sure you should?" Ron said. He didn't want to annoy Harry, but this was his little sister, after all "You don't want to get her in trouble."

"I won't," Harry said confidently. "Don't worry. She's in safe hands."

It was true – Harry was the next person, after his family members, who he'd trust Ginny with.

"Right," he said, and ran his hands through his hair. "Well, have fun."

"Where are you going?"

"Down to the greenhouses. I've got to set up."

"Bloody greenhouses," Harry said, shaking his head. "What on earth are you planning?"

"Just something nice," Ron replied, with more assurance than he really felt. He'd asked her to meet him at the greenhouse furthest from the castle earlier in the day, and she'd seemed excited at the invitation. She kissed him enthusiastically enough, anyway. Now it was over an hour before they were due to meet up, so he had more than enough time to get the place ready.

  "Good luck, Harry," Ron said, levitating his box again, and Harry gave him a wave before heading for the bathroom himself. Ron hoped he and Ginny behaved themselves, because their mother would have a hernia if she found out her daughter had been off school grounds. Still, he could hardly bring himself to worry about them. He was entirely focussed on his plans for the night – and not screwing things up.

He headed out of the common room and into the halls, before making his way quietly across the lawns to the greenhouse. Sometimes it was excellent being a prefect – if you weren't out too late, no-one questioned your right to wander. Neville had given him the password (Sprout allowed him to visit his own plants when necessary, and strangely enough he never forgot this password). It worked immediately.

Inside, the air wasn't as hot as he'd expected. It was a little thick, but otherwise pleasantly warm, and he took off his jacket almost as soon as he'd entered. The room was pleasantly scented, and all the plants stood quietly in the dark.

He let his box float to the ground, and took stock for a few moments.

Please, he thought, sending up a vague kind of wish. Please let this work out, or I'll feel like the biggest arse in history.

~

"Ron?"

It was her voice. She was absolutely on time – he hadn't expected any less – and just hearing her say his name made his stomach skip with nervousness. He'd never done this Valentine stuff before, and if this didn't work, he might never try again.

"Ron?"

"Here," he called softly. "Just – come in."

The door creaked open, and she stepped through, suddenly lit by Fred and George's White Stars. They were the twins' invention, small, star-shaped spots of bright that were charmed to illuminate in particular directions. He'd had to string them up, but now, as Ron had instructed, they were shining in Hermione's hair and on her skin, making her glow. She looked surreal, like something from a different world, and his throat was dry watching her.

She touched her hand to her mouth, and her fingers were lit too, flecked with light.

"Wow," she murmured, and at that point, Ron muttered the right spell (thank Merlin) and another light, dimmer, spread over the rest of the greenhouse. He was standing fairly close to the door, and he saw her eyes move over everything before coming to rest on him.

"Did you do this?" she asked finally, and he nodded. She looked again.

The whole place was covered in roses, and they were growing as they spoke, flowers blooming and fading and dropping away and blooming again. The twin's invention meant that they'd grow for an hour and then disappear, apparently leaving a single rose that would last, healthy and bright red, for weeks. It was popular with the ladies, according to George, and Ron thought it was a nice idea.

Now, seeing her, he knew it was a nice idea. More than nice.

"Not too corny?" he asked, and she moved wordlessly to him, taking his hand, eyes fixed on the plants growing on and on.

"No," she said, after what seemed a very long time. "It's amazing."

He couldn't suppress a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he'd have done if she'd hated it.

She looked at him properly now, and reached her free hand up to rest against his forehead. Were her eyes wet, or was that the light?

"Where do you come up with these things?" she said wonderingly.

He shrugged. He felt awkward, and full of words he couldn't quite say.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said. "And happy three-month anniversary." They were such meaningless, overused phrases, and he wished he wasn't using them.

"Same to you," she replied, breaking into a smile, hand moving to the back of his neck. "You dark horse, Ron Weasley."

He slid his arms around her waist. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked quietly, and she shook her head.

"Nothing. You surprise me all the time, that's all."

"Is that good?"

"It's great. Do I surprise you?"

He thought about this, and then nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"We know each other too well to be very surprised."

"I don't think so," she said, turning her head to watch the roses growing. "I don't think anyone can know each other too well."

She was beautiful, the line of her jaw on profile, the curve of her cheek, and he leant forward to kiss her quickly, wherever his lips could land. They found the spot just below her ear, and she shivered. Was she ticklish there? If she was, he hadn't been aware of it – maybe she was right, and you couldn't ever know a person completely.

"I love you and I just wanted to tell you properly," he said against her skin, and she shivered again.

"This is properly?" she asked softly. "Roses that grow in front of your eyes?"

"They're not real," he explained apologetically. "They'll be gone in an hour."

She turned to face him again, her expression serious.

"They're real enough," she said, and kissed him on the mouth, slow and warm. Kissing Hermione was the most comfortable thing in the world, and the most exciting, and the most exhilarating. Her mouth tasted familiar. The pounding of his heart was too loud; he was scared she'd hear it.

"OK," he said eventually, pulling away from her. "Wait. I've got food and everything. Dinner, I mean."

"You want dinner?" she asked breathlessly, and he laughed a bit.

"Well, if you only fancy a snog, I'm happy to go along."

She smiled again, and chucked him under the chin. "OK," she said. "Dinner."

~

It all went exactly to plan. Apart from a few hiccups with the White Stars (two of which had decided to become Red Dwarves at the last minute, and exploded), dinner was excellent (provided by the twins' new Snackbox range, a variation on the Skiving concept, but with real food), and they found the single rose waiting in the middle of the greenhouse when they were finished.

He picked it up and handed it to her, but she put it down on the table, and pulled something out of her own pocket.

"Alright," she said, "now my turn."

"You got me something?"

"Of course."

It was a little black box like the one he'd given her at Christmas, and when he glanced at her, she was biting her lip. Carefully, he eased the lid off. It was a silver necklace, almost identical to his earlier gift, but with a different symbol as its charm.

"What's this mean?" he asked, and she pulled the necklace out of the box.

"It means Faith," she said simply, and put it in his hand. He didn't have any words, yet again, so she stood to help him fasten it around his neck. When she was done, she planted a kiss on the top of his head and hugged him from behind. "I had a really nice night," she said.

"Thank you for this," he managed, and she nudged him.

"You're welcome. Thank you for all this. This is amazing."

There was a brief silence, and then she spoke again, somewhat uncertainly.

"Ron, you weren't – you weren't doing all this just to get me into bed, were you?"

Ron was so surprised he almost fell off his chair. He spun about and faced her, not liking the worry in her face, and the way her hands slid from his shoulders and back to her sides.

"No," he said urgently. "That has nothing to do with this, OK? I mean, I wasn't even thinking of that. Not that I don't think about that. I mean, I do. I did. But I wanted to say that I care about you, and not just all that, you know? That's what I wanted to say. Trying to. I – no, I wasn't," he finished lamely, dropping his chin onto his chest.

She looked at him for a while, and then broke into another of those smiles.

"OK," she said, and tapped him lightly on the head. "I believe you. I just thought I should ask. Hey, look up."
He did, and she was grinning now.

"Pass me my flower?" she said.

Ron passed it to her, and she took it lightly between her thumb and forefinger. She smelt it, and then eyed him, frowning.

"Hey," she said. "It smells like you."

Confused, he took the flower from her. She was right – it was the scent of his aftershave, and something else too. His human scent, Ron-smell.

"Wow," he said. "Fred and George really went all out."

He gave it back to her and stood. She snuck her hand into his hand right away, and they went back to the castle like that, quiet in the late dark, and content.

It had all gone rather well, actually.

~ 

It was past midnight when Ron got to his dorm, after walking Hermione back to her rooms and saying a long, mostly wordless goodbye. He felt quite self-satisfied, despite the bodily throbbing that came from snogging Hermione, and also, subsequently, felt the need to tell someone about how well his night had gone.

He looked around the dim room – Dean Thomas was out for the weekend, visiting a muggle aunt, and Neville wasn't in bed. He was probably with Luna Lovegood, as creepy as that thought was. In fact, it looked like the only person in tonight was Harry, and his curtains were screening him from view.

"Oy," Ron said from the region of his own bed. "Hey. Harry."

There was no response, so he walked over and pulled the curtains back.

Harry was lying there with Ginny. They were asleep and spooning, his arm circling her waist, a hand lying flat on her pale stomach. Her hair was tumbled across his pillow, and Harry's was even more of a mess than usual. The sheets were pulled up to Ginny's waist (past that for Harry, who was taller) and they were both naked.

Ron observed all of this in quite an intellectual fashion before he began to see red. He noticed very small things – Harry's face in her hair, her back against his front, her legs curled up a bit beneath the covers – and couldn't move.

Then Ginny shifted in her sleep, and he was suddenly shaking Harry awake, half-shouting something, and turning away so he didn't have to see his sister without any clothes on.

"Who's that?" Harry groaned, and then started when he saw Ron. "Oh shit. Shit. Hang on. Shit."

He staggered out of bed and pulled some boxers on, while Ginny stirred tiredly and opened her eyes.

"Oh shit," she said dismally, staring at Ron. "Merlin. Ron, what are you doing?"

"I can explain, OK?" Harry said rather desperately, facing him now and holding up a calming hand. Ron tried to control himself, but was having some trouble.

"Explain then," he said stiffly.
Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked at Ginny, and she looked at him, and then both of them looked at Ron.

"This isn't your business, Ron," Ginny said, and Harry ran a hand through his hair. 

"No, no, no," he said. "No, that's not what she means."

"It is, Harry. It's exactly what I mean."

"How would you like it if someone told you your little sister shagging your best mate was none of your business?" he pointed out, and then turned back to Ron. "What she means is – er –"

"Go on," Ron said sharply, folding his arms over his chest. "Tell me."

"She's my girlfriend," Harry said.

"Yes, thanks for that, very enlightening," Ron replied acidly and Ginny sat up, sheet pulled up to cover her chest.

"Ron, you're being an idiot. I love Harry, and we slept together and that's that, OK? It really isn't any of your business, and nobody's getting hurt, are they?"

"Are they?" Ron asked, meeting her eye, and she shook her head.

"No," she said quietly. "Nobody."

Ron looked back at Harry, who's expression was both wary and anxious. He was tall and lean, not the little boy he'd met on the Hogwarts Express in first year, and Ron had to remind himself that they were almost grown-ups now, and making decisions for themselves.

"I love her too, Ron," he said, and glanced at Ginny. "I love you, too."

By the look that appeared on Ginny's face, Ron had a feeling he'd never said it before. She seemed about to speak, but didn't, and wrapped Harry's sheets more tightly around her body instead. Harry had his eyes on the floor now, one hand scratching the back of his head, and for some reason, Ron couldn't shout at either of them.

"OK," he said.

And with that, he walked out of the dorm, and spent the night on a common room lounge.