Ron's eyes fluttered open to see his best friend Harry's face hovering over his beneath the canopy of his four-poster. Harry was prodding at his shoulder and cheerfully trying to get him to wake up. Ron rolled over on to his stomach and mumbled groggily about it being too early to be alive.

Harry tried one last time, saying something about Hogsmeade. Ron somehow managed to heave a pillow in Harry's general direction. It was no where near its target when it landed, making the slightest noise as it hit the floor. It was after those few events that Ron fell back asleep and didn't wake up until almost noon.

Ron remembered, when he woke up at last, about the trip in to Hogsmeade that students were taking that day. Harry had tried to convince him to go.

The youngest Weasley boy shrugged. He hadn't really wanted to go, any way. He felt like being alone. Maybe not completely alone. There was a certain quidditch team captain that came to mind. He would love to have the pleasure of Oliver's company.

Ron got dressed in a hurried fashion. He decided against the formality of robes, instead slipping on one of the maroon sweaters that his mother sent him every Christmas, a large capital 'R' on the front. He had a couple in the back of his dresser already and expected to have another within a couple months. Ron had to wonder how his mom's homemade sweaters were so incredibly comfortable. If she cast spells on them to make them feel irresistible, he suspected it was a secret she'd take to the grave.

Ron examined himself in a long mirror positioned near the large window on one side of the room. He tugged lightly at the bottom of his sweater, letting out a small, unhappy noise.

"I still hate maroon." He muttered as he headed out the door.

-

Ron scanned the great hall as he walked through the large double doors. A couple of hefty Slytherin girls were playing chess at their table. There was a Ravenclaw boy reading a book which he held in one hand while he tried to aim a sandwich in the vicinity of his mouth with the other. A small group of Hufflepuffs had just finished eating their lunch, passing Ron and chattering about nothing in particular on their way out.

Ron's eyes fell on the Gryffindor table and he almost wanted to turn on his heels and leave. A lump of nervousness grew in his throat, for the one person he didn't know if he was ready to see was seated comfortably in front of him.

Oliver Wood.

Ron didn't want to turn and walk away. He was almost starving, after all, and he would have to talk to Oliver sooner or later. Why was he so nervous, anyway? Just because no one had ever felt for him like Oliver seemed to.

Ron stood there thinking for a few moments, attracting a strange look or two from Professor Snape. The potions professor was eating his lunch and looking as unhappy as ever.

Oliver was the Gryffindor table's only inhabitant. Now was as good of a time as any to stop being so nervous and actually approach the boy.

Ron sat down across from Oliver and watched the older boy push a bit of pie around on his plate for a moment. Ron coughed lightly into his hand. Oliver looked up and realized that Ron was there.

"Ron!" Oliver smiled widely. Ron felt his knees buckle, quite glad at that moment that he was already sitting down.

"I was almost sure I'd scared you off." Oliver was grinning with happiness. He almost looked... Relieved? Ron felt a pang of guilt for avoiding Oliver as long as he had. He just hadn't felt ready to talk about his feeling towards the other boy. He still didn't quite know how to define those feelings.

"No." Ron couldn't help but smile back, "I just... Well, I didn't really know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." Oliver stated, reaching under the table and giving Ron's hand a squeeze. Ron, enjoying the warmth, didn't pull away, "I like you, Ron Weasley."

Ron sat silently for what seemed like ages. He just didn't know what to say. Though he had never particularly minded it, Harry and Hermione had overshadowed him almost since the day they'd arrived at Hogwarts. He really didn't know how to react to being the sole object of such intent attention.

Oliver's smile didn't leave as he pulled the soft warmth of his hand away from Ron's. Oliver started to get up.

"Wait!" Ron almost shouted, drawing glances from the few other people in the room. He coughed and turned red.

"I..." He said this syllable very timidly, wringing his hands in his lap. "I. I think I like you, too."

Oliver grinned widely at that and Ron was once again thankful that he was sitting. Oliver motioned for Ron to get up and come with him. He obliged once he felt his legs could be trusted to support him.

-

Ron walked along the shore of the lake he had rarely visited since journeying across it as a first year. The cool autumn air glided over the lake's surface and across Ron's body. Despite his fuzzy, warm sweater, Ron shivered slightly. There was a strong arm around him in less than a second, a warm hand rubbing his shoulder.

Ron blushed a little as he automatically snuggled closer to the warmth of Oliver's side.

"So..." He broke the comfortable silence the pair had been walking in.

"Hmm?" Oliver questioned with a glance.

"Can I ask you something?" Ron shuffled a foot against the ground, listening to the soft crackle of fallen leaves underfoot. He coughed softly before continuing, "Why me? I mean. You could probably have your pick of anyone in our house if you wanted. Anyone in the school, maybe."

"The truth?" Oliver asked. Ron nodded.

"I don't know." Oliver sat down on the ground, leaning against a rather large tree. He gave the spot next to him a light pat and that was all the encouragement Ron needed. "There's just something about you that no one else has. I know it's special, I know you're special, even if I'm the only one that can see it."

Ron blushed, looking at his knees.

"Or..." Oliver started. Ron looked up at him.

"Maybe it's just how good you look in that sweater." Oliver smiled.

Ron smirked, "Right."

"I mean it!" Oliver's smile was so sincere that Ron just wanted to lean over and kiss him, and that he did.

-

That evening, Ron left the common room and went up to the dormitories. He approached the mirror, giving the sweater he still wore a critical inspection. After tugging at the bottom a little and turning around once, he was satisfied.

"I like maroon."