A/N: Thanks to the many people who reviewed the last chapter! I hope this one is just as enjoyed.

Disclaimer: None of them belong to me!

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Much later that evening, Hermione found herself sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor across from Ron, a pair of wrapped gifts separating them. After they'd all returned from the Burrow, Harry had left for Gia's; he'd said that he wouldn't be too long, but both of his best friends knew well enough that "not too long" for Harry and Gia often meant that the most famous boy wizard of their time was sneaking back into his best friend's house at two and three in the morning. But neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to be complaining about the fact that the third member of their trio had something to occupy his time.

Christmas at the Burrow had been fun. Mrs. Weasley's Christmas lunch had left them stuffed sick with all sorts of wonderful food. Bill and Charlie had both shown up with their girlfriends, and the table was fuller than ever. Of course, there was still one member of the family missing, but everyone made very sure not to mention Percy's absence in front of Mrs. Weasley, who was bustling over her children and their guests more than ever.

Ron had spent most of the night seemingly avoiding the twins, leaving the area whenever one of them got close enough for speaking to him. Hermione had found this odd, and she certainly hadn't missed the snickers they seemed to have whenever they got near her. She hadn't had too much time to ponder this, though, as most of her attention was focused on Ginny. The only Weasley girl had done a very good job of staying incredibly quiet through most of the meal, and she spent most of the afternoon and evening sitting in the corner of the sitting room painting and repainting her nails with a new set of nail varnish she'd gotten for Christmas. And when Bill and Charlie started hounding Harry for information on Gia after being tipped off by the twins, Ginny had gone even paler than normal and had suddenly found the scene outside the window quite interesting. As they were leaving, Hermione had hugged the other girl and even offered her an invitation to spend some time at her house over the last week and a half of holiday. Ginny had simply glanced once at Harry and shaken her head silently before backing against the wall and watching wordlessly as everyone else said their goodbyes.

Hermione truly felt sorry for her, but there was nothing that she could think of that she could do to make her feel any better.

And, though it may have been selfish, she had enough of her own tangled love life problems to deal with as it was. The number one being the person sitting across from her, lazily playing with the bow on the package she'd wrapped earlier. Her own gift didn't have any bows, and, in fact, it was more rolled in paper than wrapped, but she didn't mind.

It was chilly in the house, so they were both dressed in pajamas with jumpers on for extra warmth. Hermione sat with her knees pulled up to her chest with a mug of hot chocolate resting in her hands. She grinned as she looked up and caught Ron staring at her.

"Okay, you go first," she said, prodding the neatly wrapped package with the toe of her socked foot.

Ron set his cocoa aside and pulled the package to him. By the amused look on his face, she could tell that he already knew it was a book. She'd certainly given him enough of them since she'd known him for him to be able to pick one out while it was wrapped in a box. However, as he pulled the top off of the box, she could instantly tell that he appreciated this book much more than the time she'd given him an updated copy of 'Hogwarts, A History.'

"Wow!" he said enthusiastically as he lifted the book from the box and admired it openly. It was a hardback, newly printed edition of 'Flying With the Cannons,' and it literally sparkled as he held it up and looked at the cover. "Thanks, Hermione!"

She was grinning so widely she thought her cheeks would split. "Open it!"

He looked at her curiously for a moment but opened the book to the front page nonetheless. His mouth immediately fell open in shock as he stared at seven names all scribbled in a sparkling golden ink. Each member of the Cannons had hand-signed the edition on the front cover. Ron's eyes didn't leave the page for what seemed like several minutes, until finally he managed to lift his gaze back to the girl who had given him the gift.

It was obvious that there were no words; he still seemed quite in shock. All he could manage was another breathless, "Wow..."

"I've been dying to give it to you!" she exclaimed, instantly setting into the explanation of how she'd acquired it. "I was going to save it till your birthday, but I couldn't wait any longer- it's been driving me crazy!"

"Where did you get it?" he asked, still quite stunned.

"I got it this summer in that Quidditch shop I told you about, remember?" He nodded vaguely, no sign of bitterness crossing his face. "And I was looking and looking and looking for something. I'd already found the Snitch, and I knew that I was getting that for Harry. I was just about to give up because I didn't really see anything else, but the man working asked me if I was a fan of the Cannons, and I said no not really but that my best friend was like their biggest fan ever, so he showed me this book. He said that there were only ten copies of it printed in this edition and specially signed, and I almost jumped for joy! And then it's been driving me crazy not being able to give it to you all these months, and I knew I couldn't wait until March!" She said all of this extremely quickly and with the most hyper tone imaginable.

Ron finally gave up on the stunned silent act and grinned at her for a second before reaching across the packages and taking the mug of cocoa away from her. He set it aside quickly and immediately grabbed her hands in his own, jerking her to her feet as he, too, jumped up. He then wrapped her in an extremely tight embrace and hugged her happily.

"Thank you!" he said, pulling back a bit and smiling down at her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's the best present I've ever gotten!"

His words were so genuine that she believed him completely, and it warmed her to the tips of her still quite chilled socked feet. "I'm so glad you like it," she said honestly, the smile never leaving her face.

Ron looked at her incredulously for a moment before shaking his head and saying, "Like it? Hermione, it's the Cannons!"

She giggled. "I know. And maybe sometime in the next century, they'll actually win a match!" She was teasing him, as so many others did, about the fact that he was such a faithful devotee to a team that hadn't won too much of anything since probably the 1800s. "We'll cross our fingers and hope for the best," she grinned as she quoted the Cannons' motto.

"Hey!" Ron said, trying but not succeeding to look offended. "Shut up!" He shoved her playfully, and she continued to giggle. "It'll happen, okay?"

She nodded, her face still set in the grin. "I believe you..."

Ron just rolled his eyes and sent her the very same look she was so famous for. The one that just screamed, 'I'm right. You're wrong. I'm not going to entertain this conversation any longer.' She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "Don't give me that look," she said sternly. "I own that look."

Ron laughed and rolled his eyes again before bending down and picking up the other wrapped parcel. He held it out to her and proudly said, "Here. I wrapped it myself." It was clear that he was trying to be funny, and she simply shook her head as she took it from him.

"I never would have guessed..." There was quite a bit of tape rolled around the paper, and it took a good minute to actually get to the box. When she'd finally discarded all of the wrinkled wrapping, she looked at him briefly before pulling the lid from the box. He actually looked quite anxious.

Hermione glanced back to the gift and lifted the lid, smiling as she reached into the box with her free hand and pulled out what appeared to be a gray leather bound journal. She smiled at him as he launched into his own explanation.

"Well," he swallowed, as if he were suddenly very nervous, "I've never seen you write in one before. And I just figured that maybe you needed to, you know? I mean, because there should at least be some record of how brilliant your mind is." He gave her a nervous little smile, and she bit down on her lower lip. "And you don't have to worry about anyone reading it, either. Because it's enchanted, see? Whenever anyone else looks at it, all they'll see is blank pages. But you set this spell on it, so it recognizes you, and it will be just like a normal diary for you. So, you know, no one can read it."

He looked up at her, nervously awaiting her reaction. In truth, she'd never received such a thoughtful gift, and she could hardly believe that Ron had been the one to think about it enough to get it for her. He'd gotten her the bracelet for her birthday, which she loved very much, but this had actually required thought and a reason behind it. And he'd given her both. Smiling back at him shyly, she said a quiet, "Thank you."

He sent her the same sort of nervous smile, and she slowly reached for his hand and clasped it in her own free palm. With another genuinely thankful smile, she said, "I love it."

He glanced down at their hands and then looked back at her. It was suddenly very awkward, as if they were both in some Muggle film at the end of a first date and standing on the front porch of her house. In those films, the awkward silence always screamed the fact that neither of them knew what to do or say or whether the other even wanted anything said or done.

But this wasn't a Muggle film.

For one, in the Muggle films, the girl always looked stunning, with a perfect outfit and the breezy wind blowing her hair just enough to make her look incredibly enticing. Hermione was well-aware of the fact that she was dressed in her pajamas and that her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail with several thick chunks falling down to frame her face. She was also aware of the fact that the dimly lit porch that was always so prominent in these films was being substituted by her brightly lit bedroom.

In fact, there was really nothing at all to compare this with a film fantasy except for the deafening awkwardness that surrounded them both the second she'd taken his hand carefully into her own.

It was silly, really, to be so nervous and awkward with Ron. He'd known her for so long that they should be far past any sort of awkward feelings, but there they were. They'd been through life and death and everything in between together; they'd literally grown up together, grown up knowing each other inside and out.

And, yet, they still couldn't speak to each other.

Things had changed. They'd changed since they were squabbling eleven year olds. They'd changed since last year when they'd argued over Viktor Krum. They'd changed since this summer when even touching each other had seemed far too impossible to even think about. And things had changed over the past two weeks. Those two weeks of holiday had made Hermione realize something that had been right there for her to realize for five long years.

Ron was her best friend.

Of course she'd always thought of him like that, but it had always been in the context of "Ron and Harry." Never just Ron by himself. But it was true- she held Ron's friendship closer even than she held Harry's. It wasn't that she didn't love or trust Harry because she did, very much so. It was just that she had spent so much more time with Ron over the years that she'd had no choice. Until this year, she'd been with Ron practically every waking hour of the day, as Harry often had Quidditch practices. And now that Ron was sharing those practices, Hermione hadn't let herself realize how much she missed the alone time with the redheaded prat who drove her insane.

Yes, he was insufferable ninety percent of the time. Yes, he was immature and annoying. And yes, he was her favorite verbal sparring partner.

But he was so much more.

He was the one whose first words had been, "Hermione! Are you okay?" after she'd finally gotten him to wake up on the floor of the giant chess board in their first year. He was the one who had burped up slugs trying to defend her the first time she'd ever been called a Mudblood. He was the one who had actually taken notes (and fairly good ones at that) for her during the three weeks she'd spent in the hospital wing after messing up a Polyjuice Potion. Of course, he'd snuck into the infirmary after hours each night to give them to her while Harry was at Quidditch practice because if anyone found at that he was actually making an effort at school, his reputation would have been damaged beyond repair. He was the one who had braved his biggest fear in order to get information to help after she'd been Petrified in their second year. Third Year was definitely their worst; they'd definitely had more downs than ups that year, but they'd had enough. She wouldn't forget the day they'd spent together in Diagon Alley before the start of the school year when they'd gone shopping for a new wand to replace his old broken one. She still remembered him using the last of his pocket money to buy them ice-cream at Fortescue's and then trading her his chocolate-peppermint cone when she'd realized that she didn't have too much of a taste for the lemon-meringue one she'd ordered. She remembered the time that same year when he'd stood up for her when Snape had called her an insufferable know-it-all even though Ron himself took pride in calling her that exact quote at least once a day. And, of course, she remembered everything about Fourth Year with exceptional clarity. The way they'd fought about Viktor, the way she'd felt an unfounded dislike for Fleur Delacour, the way he'd actually broken down and worn the S.P.E.W. badge she'd made for a whole afternoon. And, of course, the way he'd stared at her the night of the Yule Ball. It had infuriated her at the time, but she hadn't missed the strange sort of tingling that his intense gaze brought upon her. She remembered the way he'd held her hand protectively when they didn't know where Harry had been taken to after the Third Task. And she remembered the way he'd hugged her awkwardly and told her that if she needed anything to write him before he'd disappeared through the barrier with his parents at the end of Fourth Year.

And one thing reigned true and consistent in all of those memories. While he might have enjoyed fighting publicly with her, he was always there to stand up for her. And in private, he was completely different.

That was what she missed more than anything- the private time that they'd always had together. This year hadn't held that same opportunity, but the past two weeks had given them what they'd both been secretly missing. Harry hadn't been around, and Ron and Hermione had, in a sense, rediscovered each other.

And they'd discovered things they'd never known before.

It was frightening to think that she could feel like this, but Hermione was far past denying herself of the truth. She liked Ron in a way much differently from the way she liked Harry or any of her other friends. And maybe she always had- maybe she'd always known deep down that opposites really did attract. Or maybe it was just all new. She didn't know, and she honestly didn't care. What had mattered in the past didn't matter anymore because everything before was over and done with.

All she was concerned with was the here and now.

"Well."

Ron's single word statement drew her quickly out of the deep reverie she wasn't even aware she'd fallen into. She could feel his hand still holding hers, and she glanced down as if to clarify the feeling. A small shiver ran through her as she saw that their hands were still quite entwined with each other.

It was a wonderful little chill.

Looking back up, she met his eyes carefully, not missing the way he was staring at her. It was an intense gaze, but it wasn't the same look he'd stared her down with at the Yule Ball the year before. That look had been angry and possessive. This one was marked with nervousness and even a tad of shyness.

He knew. She knew he knew. He knew the way she felt, and Hermione was close to positive that this was due mostly to the fact that he felt the same way.

'Just say it,' she urged him silently. What the "it" was, Hermione wasn't sure. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to say, but she wanted him to say something. Or maybe it was she who needed to say it.

"Well."

Okay, so it wasn't her usual display of vocabulary. But she couldn't help it; it was the only thing she could bring herself to say.

She hoped it was enough.

There was another horrible drowning silence, and Hermione was sure that it was just going to swallow them both up. She'd never been so incredibly nervous in her entire life- none of the near death experiences of her years at Hogwarts could even compare to the way she was feeling as she stood in her bedroom with her hand tucked safely into Ron's and her cheeks flushing rapidly.

And it was all so stupid.

They were supposed to be best friends. They weren't supposed to be forced to deal with all of this dratted awkwardness; they weren't supposed to be dealing with all this boy/girl stuff between them at all. But they were. And they had been for quite some time.

And, in Hermione's opinion, it was high time to do something about it.

Of course, she certainly wasn't going to be the one to do anything. And she somehow knew that Ron wouldn't, either- no matter how much they both wanted it. It was too hard, and she couldn't really blame him.

Looking away for a moment, Ron finally managed to speak again. "Well, I guess I should go to bed."

She swallowed and nodded slightly, not wanting him to go anywhere but not having enough courage to ask him to stay. He looked at her as if he almost hoped that she would say something to convince him not to leave, but when she didn't, he simply nodded slowly.

Hermione wanted to groan right out, but she didn't. She couldn't. All she could do was resolve to the fact that to have faced death so many times that she and Ron were both still nothing but a couple of ruddy cowards.

Oh, well.

With a small sigh that she hadn't meant to release, she looked up at him one more time. "Well, goodnight, then."

Ron didn't say it back right away. He was too busy staring at her- staring at her in a way that made her feel deliciously excited and... adored. He was looking at her as if he adored her. She would have given every book in the Hogwarts library to make that a true statement.

Suddenly, she was hit with a now or never sort of feeling. She had to tell him something- anything- so that he would know what she was going through. She had to let him know that if he was going through the same thing then they could handle it. Together.

Because it might have been scary, but it was inevitably right. She was sure of it.

Taking a shallow breath, she gathered up every ounce of courage that she could and said, "Ron, I..."

She didn't get any further.

Because he had kissed her.

It took a second for Hermione to register that he was, in fact, kissing her and that she was, in fact, doing nothing about it. He wasn't taking any liberties with her; their lips were merely touching in a terribly sweet sort of way, and Hermione was positive that she was going to die from it. Without meaning to, she felt her eyes close slowly as they stood in the middle of her bedroom with their lips barely brushing against each others.

It was the most wonderful thing she'd ever felt in her entire life.

She shivered slightly as she felt the pad of his thumb run gently over the knuckles of the hand he was still holding. And without even knowing what she was doing, she slowly let the diary drop to the floor and reached for his free hand with her own.

Nothing- nothing- had ever felt like this.

Moments later, they gently pulled away from each other. She could feel Ron slowly straightening back up in front of her closed eyes, and she realized that she needed to lean back against the canopy post of her bed or she might fall out right there in her room from the sheer dizzy feeling taking over body in the most rapid of paces.

She allowed her eyes to stay closed for several more seconds, reveling in the way she could still feel his soft lips pressed so gently against her own. Her brain wasn't even functioning properly, and she found that thinking about anything else was quite impossible. And when she finally managed to force her eyes to flutter open, she looked shyly up at Ron only to find that his own eyes were still closed, too.

As if sensing her gaze, he blinked twice and then opened his eyes. Hermione had never seen them look so blue before; they were darker than she ever remembered them being, and she somehow managed to wonder if her own eyes had been given the same darkening effect. Not saying a word, the two of them simply stared at each other, as if they were both trying to make sense of what had just happened.

A long, long moment of silence followed, but the timid eye-contact between the two of them was never once broken.

All at once, everything seemed to click into place.

They had just kissed each other. She, Hermione, had just kissed him, Ron.

Oh, wow.

Hermione was suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn't meant for that to happen. She only wanted to tell him how she felt; she hadn't expected him to kiss her. It all seemed unreal. What had they done? What would happen now? What did this change? It was too much.

Ron, too, looked as if he was trying to figure out what in the world had possessed him to do that. His face was redder than she had ever seen it, and he looked as if he would have been happier at that moment if the earth had opened up and swallowed him.

Quietly, he said her name. "Hermione..."

Hermione unconsciously let go of his hand and took a step backwards, bumping into the post behind her. She let one hand move to her mouth where she gently pressed her fingertips against her still warm lips. Had that really just happened?

"Hermione, look." He tried again, but she shook her head.

"What was that?" She looked up at him sharply, her eyes widened and her face set quite seriously.

Ron looked as if she'd just given his ego the harshest of blows. Crinkling up his forehead embarrassedly, he quietly mumbled, "It was supposed to be a kiss."

Hermione immediately turned her back and pressed her forehead against the wood of the canopy post behind her. "I don't mean what was it," she clarified instantly. "I mean why did you do it?"

There was a long silence, and Hermione could feel his eyes staring into her back. She was far too confused and terrified to turn around and look at him, though. She finally heard him answer; his voice was little more than a whisper, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

"Because I wanted to see what it would be like." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as he finished with, "To kiss you."

Hermione softly let out the breath she wasn't aware that she'd been holding. A million thoughts went racing through her mind, and she wasn't sure how to deal with any of them. Everything she'd ever wanted had just happened.

And it terrified her.

It terrified her that she could feel this way. It terrified her that Ron was the one making her feel this way. It terrified her that she wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him again. It terrified her that the one thing she'd been dreaming about for awhile now had finally happened. It terrified her that it was even more wonderful in real life than it was in slumber.

And for all the same reasons, she was also very thrilled.

Swallowing what felt like a tennis ball in her throat, she slowly turned back around. Ron looked just as terrified as she felt, and he was looking at her as if he feared that she was either going to hex him or hit him.

In a very hesitant voice, she started with, "Ron..."

But she didn't get any further because Ron cut her off. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Okay? I mean... I'm sorry. I didn't... If you... Do you hate me?"

All the broken parts of his sentences floated through her mind as she comprehended what he'd just said. The final part shocked her beyond belief. Wrinkling up her forehead in confusion, she said, "Why would I hate you?"

He looked away at something on the opposite wall. "Because I didn't even ask or anything... And... I don't know, Hermione." His voice had never sounded so nervous or sweet to her, and all she knew how to do was shake her head.

"I don't hate you."

"But you're mad, right?" he asked in the same small voice.

Hermione simply took a hesitant step toward him. "Why would I be mad that you finally did what I'd been waiting on for months?" If she was going to tell him, she was going to tell him everything. There was no use hiding anything now.

The look of shock on his face could almost have been considered humorous if it weren't for the quiet and serious tone of the event. In a stuttering voice, he said, "You... You have?"

She nodded slowly.

"So... You're not mad?"

She shook her head, shyly meeting his eyes.

He swallowed and finished with an even quiet question. "Could I... Would it be okay if I maybe... did it again?"

Feeling her eyes flutter shut for the second time, she gave him a single nod of an answer. She waited breathlessly for the feel of his lips again, but instead, she felt a rather shaky palm rest gently against her cheek. Sensing his nervousness through his touch, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He was studying her so intently that she wasn't even sure that he was aware of the fact that she'd reopened her eyes. With his hand still shaking, he carefully let his fingertips drag down and over her chin; Hermione didn't move. Her breath caught slightly in her throat when his fingers moved slowly upwards and rested unmoving against her lips. She turned her eyes upward to look at him, but he was so transfixed on staring at her lips that he didn't even notice. After barely wetting his own lips, he ducked his head once again and kissed her.

And once again, Hermione had no control over the way her eyes shut. The finger that had been replaced by his lips trailed with the rest of that hand slightly downward and cupped her chin. He tilted her head up just a bit as he kissed her. It was much the same as the first kiss; there was no movement to deepen it or ruin any of its pure beauty and innocence. It was a kiss simply about purity and a deeper level of caring than either of them had ever experienced before.

It was beautiful.

When Ron slowly lifted his head from hers, they both opened their eyes and once again stared at each other. Hermione wasn't sure why it seemed that her head was floating or why she couldn't seem to feel her legs. All she knew was that she'd never felt better.

A soft, telling smile was shared between them for several moments before Ron finally bent down and picked up the book she'd given him. Glancing at it and then back up at her, he quietly said two words.

"Thank you."

Somehow, Hermione knew he wasn't thanking her for the present.

She bit down slightly on her lower lip and offered him a shy grin in response. Both of them knew that they didn't need to explain anything to each other at the moment. Because they both understood everything perfectly.

He reached once again for her hand with the one of his that wasn't holding the book. Squeezing it just slightly, he managed to speak again. "Goodnight."

Without thinking twice, Hermione lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and hugged him. And when he bent down to hug her back, she kissed him again. Lightly, shortly, and sweetly, their lips met.

A second later when they broke apart, she smiled for what felt like the millionth time that night and said, "Goodnight."

After another telling look passed between them, and he left her room.

Not being able to stand it a second longer, Hermione fell rather ungracefully back onto her bed. She closed her eyes and immediately began replaying every single second of the night in her head.

For once in a life full of mystery and magic, something felt real.

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Well? Ahem... I hope that you are all happy now. As always, I am DYING to hear feedback- especially for this.

As far as the movie goes, I've now seen it four times. Every time I think I like it more. The first time I saw it, I kept getting disappointed by all the stuff they left out, but by the second time I had nothing to be disappointed about.

And I loved it!

The spider scene scared the piss out of me (I have MAJOR arachnophobia), but the look on Rupert's face the whole time and the perfectly dropped line of Daniel Radcliffe, "Thank you. We'll just go..." are enough to make me even keep watching it every time.

Hands down best line- "Reading? I didn't know you could read." Ha! And as a result of this movie, I have an even deeper obsession with the Malfoys. Jason Issacs was PERFECT, as, of course, was Tom Felton.

And what can I say about the non-hug ending? I don't think there are enough words...

Ah! Please leave feedback!!!!!