Sunday

Ron had decided he was heartily sick of mistletoe.

Every time Harry mentioned Andromeda – which was rather often – someone new seemed to come over and want to know the story of how they had got together. Ron had heard the story enough times to recite it off by heart, including the self-conscious flick of his fringe Harry did at intervals during the telling of it.

It had been him Andromeda had bumped into, after all. Harry hadn't even said thank you! Not that it was really Ron's doing at all… but a mention of the circumstances would have been nice. Ron couldn't help but feel, at times like these, that Harry was getting all the glory.

That's perfectly all right, he told himself crossly. She's Harry's girlfriend, not yours. You don't even fancy her. You just want people to pay attention to you.

What's so wrong with that? asked a second voice inside his head, and Ron resolved immediately to stop having arguments with himself.

Slightly bored of Harry's company, as his friend seemed unable to concentrate on anything other than Andromeda, Ron stayed up later than the other Gryffindor boys, which was how he found himself alone in the common room. And then – oh no – he started thinking about Hermione. This was something he had tried not to do in the past couple of days. Since it had hit him that he was having Feelings for Hermione – Feelings that you weren't supposed to have about your best friend – he had tried his best to forget that she existed. It wasn't working, of course, which was evident in the fact that he thought about her every time he wasn't wholly occupied. And even some of the time he was wholly occupied.

He heard footsteps outside the portrait hole, which was just as well, Ron thought. Maybe whoever it was would have a conversation with him, or even get on his nerves, and then he would stop drifting off into worrying daydreams. But it was not to be, because the portrait swung out and there was Hermione.

She stopped in the doorway when she saw him sitting there, but then strode forward defiantly. 'Goodnight, Ron,' she said loftily, and headed for the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

'Hermione, wait,' said Ron before he knew what he was doing. Hermione stopped again, turned around. There was an uncertain expression on her face. Ron plunged on. 'I don't want us to be like this any more. I need to talk to you.'

She hesitated, then said, 'All right', but didn't move.

'Come over here then!'

'Oh… OK…'

Ron waited until she was sitting opposite him, then took a deep breath. 'OK. I didn't get the point the other day. Or before that. But do you want to tell me what the point is?'

'If I still need to tell you, you aren't ready to hear.'

Damn. He had hoped she would make it a bit easier for him. 'Well, I don't think you need to tell me… that is, if I've got the right point…' Silence. 'Right. Hermione. I said to Fred and George the other day that you were 'just Hermione'. Well, that isn't true. Not any more. I don't feel the same way about Harry as I do about you – thankfully – and I haven't for a while. I just didn't figure out before why that was. Now, I think I know.'

'Well, why?' Hermione's hand were shaking a little.

Ron thought carefully, then said, 'Er….'

'Well that's enlightening.'

He smiled. 'All right. Hermione, when I was telling you all those reasons someone might want to go out with you the other day, I didn't just make them up. They're really, really true. That's what I think about when I think about you, which has been quite a lot recently… Hermione, they're the reasons I want to go out with you. Or whatever the equivalent of that is when the only place you can go is Hogsmeade.'

Hermione looked as though she was about to cry. Aaaaargh! No! This can't be happening! 'Hermione, what's wrong? Have I been a total idiot again?'

'No, no, you haven't… not at all…'

'Well, what then?'

'Ron, do you have any idea how long I've waited to hear you say that?'

'Really? So – it's not just me then? You feel the same way?'

'Of course I do!' For a moment, they just grinned at each other stupidly. Then something made them both look upwards. There, hanging in mid-air, was Fred and George's enchanted mistletoe sprig, directly above them.

You can guess the rest.