CHAPTER TEN

"Though I've tried before to tell her of the feelings I have for her in my heart, every time that I come near her I just lose my nerve- as I've done from the start… Every little thing she does is magic Everything she do just turns me on Even though my life before was tragic Now I know my love for her goes on…"
"Every Little Thing She Does is Magic", STING

The following Thursday was Hermione's birthday, September nineteenth, and the day didn't start ideally. Mainly because it started with Seamus leaping onto her stomach at six thirty that morning and knocking the breath out of her.

"Ooof!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAAY!"

"EEEEK!" Needless to say, although Seamus had a very pleasant face, it was not something you wanted to open your eyes and find about two centimeters away from yours. "Seamus!"

"'Tis meee!" he cried exultantly.

"No kidding," Hermione gasped, sitting up at once. Seamus fell off her bed onto the floor, giggling insanely. Before Hermione could regain her senses, Harry and Dean had grabbed her from either side and planted a kiss on each of her cheeks.

"Happy birthday!" Harry cried, hugging her around the shoulders.

"And many happy returns," Dean added, giving her another peck.

"Thank you," Hermione croaked, her breath still not quite recovered. But she grinned anyway, feeling warm and tingly in her stomach. All three of the boys were grinning at her happily, and Hermione suddenly felt embarrassed. "I'm in my pyjamas- and I must look awful- let me go to the bathroom, and-" But the next thing she knew Ginny had strolled in from the staircase bearing an armload of presents.

'What's going on?" croaked an early-morning Parvati Patil. Everyone ignored her and concentrated on giving Hermione their presents.

"This is from me," Lavender said proudly, handing Hermione a large green parcel. It turned out to be Narcisio Nebalt's Complete Hair and Make Up Kit for the Stunning Young Witch. A picture of the famous Italian wizard make up artist winked up at her from the plastic covering, protecting the soft green leather casing.

"Thank you Lavender, it's wonderful," Hermione said, unable to keep the note of exasperation out of her voice. Lavender was always at her to experiment more with makeup- once even going so far as to get Seamus to pin Hermione down while Lavender applied mascara to Hermione's eyelashes. Lavender just laughed, clearly delighted with Hermione's reaction.

"Now you won't have an excuse. I'll do your make up for you this morning- you've got to look really gorgeous for your birthday." Lavender crowed.

"Hermione looks gorgeous every day," Dean insisted loyally, handing Hermione a much less flashy package. It was square and flat, and as Hermione pulled off the brown paper she gave a cry of delight. It was a black and white painting of Crookshanks the cat sitting on one of the armchairs in the common room. As Hermione gazed at it rapturously, the painted likeness of Crookshanks pawed the tassel hanging off the left arm of the chair. "Oh Dean, it's beautiful! You figured out how to do that charm on your paints, then?"

"Yep," Dean said proudly, "the other day. I just wanted it to be a surprise."

"It's wonderful!" She gave him another tight hug, which Seamus interrupted by nearly clocking Hermione over the head with his gift to her. "Open mine," he demanded, starting to untie the ribbon for her. Hermione had to laugh- it was a large, ridiculous looking stuffed dog- purple with red spots- and the name "NELLY" imprinted in large red letters on the tag around its neck.

"Only one of it's kind," he explained proudly. "I got it when I went to London- one of Fred and George's ideas."

Everyone cleared away from the bed at once, and Hermione dropped Nelly as though it were about to explode. "No!" Seamus said impatiently. "Look inside its mouth." Hermione did, and grinned: Nelly was filled to the brim with a number of sweets, all jumbled together.

"And if you don't start eating 'em, Nelly will start to duplicate them until they spill out the mouth and fill the room," Seamus explained. "Fred and George thought it would be a good gift for dieters."

Everyone laughed, and then Ginny presented Hermione with a large square item wrapped in red paper- the complete illustrated works of Jane Austen. "You told me she was your favorite author, once," Ginny said shyly, "and I charmed the pictures inside, see?" Hermione did see- each perfect painting of Austen's characters was alive in the manner of a wizard portrait. Hermione hugged Ginny warmly, touched deeply by the present.

Harry then held forward his gift- a flat, red velvet box. Inside was a fine gold chain- on the end of which was a small golden quill, in perfect detail. "Harry…" Hermione breathed, staring at it. "It's so gorgeous!"

"Press the clasp, see what happens," Harry urged, and when she did the quill started to grow, until it was normal sized- in perfect golden detail. Hermione was captivated.

"Oh my gosh…" she cried, throwing her arms around Harry neck and hugging him until it must have hurt. Harry giggled into her ear.

"Glad you like it, then."

Hermione broke away, feeling a bit teary. She loved her friends so much- they were all so good and kind and generous and- "Wait a moment…where's Ron?"

Everyone exchanged glances. "He'll be up in a second," Harry said, after a pause. Hermione was surprised when she felt nothing- usually a loaded pause like that would have at least made her feel worried, or excited. But she just didn't care. I'm so sick of his weird behaviour, she decided, piling her presents on her bedside table in order for her to get to her feet. If he wants to act like a prat on my own birthday, that's his problem. Everyone else wants to have fun. Including me.

Lavender, Ginny and Hermione cleared the boys out so that they could get ready (Parvati Patil had long ago departed after dressing sulkily in the bathroom). After some argument, Lavender finally convinced Hermione to at least let Lavender do her hair with Sleakezy's Hair Solution, so that she had long soft waves rather than her usual tight plait.

"It's so beautiful like this!" Lavender groaned, fluffing Hermione's mane. "You should do it like this every day,"

"Once is enough for me- that took nearly half an hour," Hermione pointed out, though secretly she was pleased with the result. It really does make an improvement, she admitted to herself, as she tilted her head in the mirror. But Lavender and Ginny refused to go downstairs until they had done a little bit to Hermione's face. Hermione relented after about twenty minutes of coaxing (during which she got dressed into her school uniform) and by the time she and the other girls descended the staircase into the common room Hermione's lips had been glossed and her eyelashes coated lightly with mascara. She felt uncomfortable, as she always did when wearing make up, but she felt gratified when Dean, Seamus and Harry, who were waiting at the bottom of the staircase, gave her an admiring round of applause that made the few other students in the common room turn their heads. Hermione blushed horribly as she took Harry's arm.

"Every girl should have an entourage on her sixteenth birthday," announced Dean, as he handed her a bunch of long-stemmed red roses. "Now, let's go down to a real birthday breakfast."

"Where's Ron?" demanded Lavender, as they got to the portrait hole. Her question was immediately answered when the portrait door flew open and smacked her in the face. "Owch!"

"Oh no, Lavender- Ron!" Hermione cried, pausing as she bent down to help Lavender up. Ron was staring at Hermione in amazement, then he bit his lip sheepishly and leapt down to help Lavender up.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," he said furtively, "Are you okay? Sorry…"

"S'all right," Lavender said, glaring at him. "You didn't get me that hard, I was just surprised."

Hermione wasn't about to let him off so easily though, "For goodness sake Ron, why can't you be more careful?" she snapped. "That was so idiotic."

Ron blinked at her in surprise. So did everyone else. "Er…sorry Hermione. But Lavender's okay, aren't you Lav?" He looked up at Hermione again, his expression still shocked.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Lavender said patiently, rubbing her nose. Hermione just shook her head, rolling her eyes at Ron. His forehead creased, but she didn't care.

"Right, anyway," he said, bending down to pick up something else from the floor, "Happy Birthday."

"You missed the opening statement," Hermione said sourly, as he handed her- a bouquet of purple roses. He had clearly put a lot of work into them- Ron had never been all that good at conjuring up flowers- but they were messily done all the same, not at all like Dean's careful work, and Hermione felt further exasperated. "Thanks," she said.

"Oh…" he said, noticing the red flowers she was already holding. There was an embarrassed silence from the group. Ron's face had gone red when he noticed that Hermione was arm in arm with Harry.

"Never mind!" Seamus burst in joyfully, "Two bunches o' flowers for a girl who's twice as beautiful as the rest!"

"That's right," put in Dean quickly. Ron gave her a beautiful sheepish grin, and Hermione's heart melted a bit. She almost felt…sorry for him.

"Let's go and get breakfast," she said, linking her free arm with Ron's. Seamus and Dean took a bunch of roses each, and they all set off downstairs, Seamus and Dean desperately making up for the embarrassing episode in the common room by being completely weird and making strange jokes. Hermione was glad for their effort, but Ron's presence burnt like a piece of grit in her eye. Why didn't he come up like the rest of her friends? Why wasn't he ever just normal anymore? For the first time in a long while, Hermione was entertaining thought of really ripping into him- like they used to be able to do in the old days, before they started going out, when they could easily argue half an hour away without hurting each other's feelings or analyzing every single thing the other said an trying to best each other-

Oh God, Hermione realised, as Seamus kicked open the doors of the Great Hall, oh my god. But it's always been that way, hasn't it? It's always hurt just as much, and I've always analysed everything he said to me, and I've always tried to best him. Things really aren't any different from before- they really aren't. Ron hasn't changed, and I haven't changed, and- oh, my god…

"Are you all right?" Seamus said, breaking the introverted silence of her epiphany. Hermione shook herself back to reality- but it was a very different reality from before. A realer reality. "Listen, I'll be back in a second- you can start breakfast without me…" And he rushed off, toward the opposite end of the hall.

Hermione followed the others in silence, aware that Ron's hand in hers wasn't eliciting any reaction whatsoever. I was right, then, she concluded miserably. Absently, she stared over at the Slytherin table, and spotted a familiar blonde head bent over his breakfast: Draco. Hermione considered him as Ron made her a cup of tea. She wasn't entirely right, come to think of it- things had changed, Draco Malfoy being one of them. He seemed to be so different, so removed from the Draco she was used to. There was something undeniably human and something piquantly…attractive (?) about the boy that fascinated her. Mind you, he had always been mildly fascinating- how could one person be so nasty? But this was a different kind of intrigue- and one Hermione was slightly scared of.

Ron tweaked her out of her reverie by tugging gently on one of her curls. "What are you looking for over there?" he said teasingly.

"Nothing," said Hermione, managing a smile. A small pile of birthday cards and letters had already been left at her place, and as Ron and Harry loaded her plate with toast and eggs and bacon, six more owls swooped down, leaving their messages, and, in one case, a large parcel from her parents. It contained the same thing it usually did- clothes from Paris, perfume from Paris- Hermione's mother loved France. In addition her father had sent a gorgeous leather bound writing set complete with a elegant fountain pen, engraved with her full name, which Hermione found quite touching.

"Hermione Charlotte Duerre Granger," Ron read aloud, when she showed the end to him. "I never knew you had middle names."

"I never tell anyone I have middle names. I think they sound…pretentious."

"I think it's pretty," said Ron, with another grin at her, and Hermione realised he'd chosen the worst of times to be attentive and nice and relationshippy. Her epiphany only minutes earlier had left its engraving on her heart: something doubtful and scary which changed things. She felt like she had stripped something down, somehow, like cutting the skin off an orange, or ripping the bark off a tree. Friends who just hold hands… Hermione thought, looking up at Ron; that boy, that marvelous boy who had seemingly turned her world upside down just seven or so months ago. The question was not so much what happened, as how did this happen in the first place?

"Um," said Ron…"Um. You look really nice today." And he blushed as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said, feeling worse than ever. (What was going on here, anyway?)

"Oh, by the way," Ron continued, smiling, looking proud of himself, "about your-"

But Seamus, who materialised behind them and cleared his throat, loudly, interrupted him. Next thing Hermione knew she was being serenaded by a large group of house elves in four part harmonies. "Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Miss Hermione, happy birthday to you…For she is being a jolly good fellow, for she is being a jolly good fellow, for she is being a jolly good fe-hell-oooww! And so is saying all of uss-es."

Evidently, all that time Seamus had been spending in the kitchen lately was for a reason. When the house elves had finished their own rendition of Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, to the delight of the entire school, everyone clapped and Seamus took a bow, waving the bread knife he had been conducting the choir with in an elaborate twirl. The house elves toddled back to the kitchen, pleased with their brush with fame. Dobby, one of the stronger tenors, darted forward to present Hermione with a lumpy package, which predictably, contained socks- one was white with purple stripes, the other was purple with white stars. "They're lovely, Dobby, thank you," she said, giving his bald brown head a kiss. He squeaked with pleasure and then launched into a monologue about his holidays, which Harry and Ron both listened to raptly.

Ron grinned at her, finally feeling her gaze, and squeezed her knee under the table. Why does he burn hot and cold like this, all the bloody time? thought Hermione, sighing as she picked at her breakfast, feeling too confused to eat. A glimmer on her school tie distracted her momentarily- it was the quill necklace she had gotten from Harry that morning. Seeing her gift reminded her of something: Ron hadn't gotten her a present. She felt guilty for the irrational feeling of annoyance that swelled up. He doesn't have that much money after all, and…

But Dean's present hadn't cost anything- he'd made it himself. Why couldn't Ron enact the same initiative? All of the presents she'd gotten from her friends had been given to her with a lot of thought and love- ridiculously, her own boyfriend had gotten her something that anyone could have thought of for a girl's birthday present. A bunch of faultily made flowers? Please! It was the most ridiculous….

"Miss Granger?"

She jumped. The headmaster was standing right behind her, twinkling down at her with those blue eyes. "Oh- h-hello Professor Dumbledore." She wondered for a second if he was going to tell her off for creating a disturbance- after all, the house elves had been trained for her- but all he wanted was to wish her a happy birthday.

"Many Happy returns, my dear," he said, waving his wand, and conjuring up yet another bouquet of roses- blue ones, this time. "Not the most original of gifts, if you'll forgive me…"

"Not at all, they're beautiful," Hermione said sincerely, noting the tiny silver stars lining each petal of each rose. "Thank you very much, Professor."

"And you deserve more," Dumbledore answered. "But for now, if you would accompany me up to my office, I have a better surprise for you up there."

Hermione obediently got to her feet, noting that Ron looked reluctant to let go of her hand- which she liked. But within moments of her walking away from the Gryffindor table, he was deep in conversation with Harry. So much for thinking about me all the time, Hermione thought wryly, as she followed Dumbledore along the corridor, he hardly even notices me when I'm sitting next to him.

But she was glad for it after all, because when Dumbledore left her at the door of his office, her heart filled with joy to see who was sitting inside. "Professor Lupin!"

"Hello, love," he said, getting to his feet immediately. She was greeted with a big warm hug- which reminded Hermione that Ron hadn't even given her a birthday hug yet- and yet another birthday peck on the cheek. Lupin looked much healthier than he had the last time she had seen him, which had been at the beginning of June when the holidays started. His appearance remained slightly scruffy, but, as she knew, he had been in the wilds of Scotland for the past month or two with Bill and Charlie Weasley and a few others on Dumbledore's side going through their core Auror training. It had taken all of Lupin's coaxing power to make Harry stay at home with the Dursleys rather than follow him into the mountains.

"It's good that he's back at Hogwarts," Lupin said in his hoarse, quiet voice, after they'd talked for a bit.

"It is good," Hermione agreed, "now we know he's safe."

Lupin fixed her with a stern look. "Harry's not the only one who's in direct danger, you know. I'm afraid that thanks to Rita Skeeter's articles a few years ago, every Death Eater in Britain knows that you're one of Harry's closest friends."

"Now you're just trying to scare me," Hermione said with a laugh, feeling a little flutter in her stomach.

"I wish I was. You'd be idiotic not to be scared, and I know you're smarter than that." He smiled suddenly. "It's knowing that that's kept me sane- otherwise I'd have gone crazy with worry about you and Ron."

"Well, we're much safer at Hogwarts," Hermione said, giving his calloused hand a squeeze.

"Yes," said Sirius, tilting his head to the side. "I like it best when you're all clumped together….I just wish all of the Weasleys still went to Hogwarts, not only Ron and Ginny. Luckily, I've been with Bill and Charlie for the past few months."

"And Fred and George know how to take care of themselves," Hermione said, thinking comfortably of the security measures the twins had taken to protect their home. They were both so clever that they could quite easily conjure up the most unbreakable charms- both brothers were confident that it would take Voldemort himself to get into their house and attack them, and since the twins had remained fairly neutral about the fight, they weren't so important as to trouble the Dark Lord.

"They're smart to lay low," Lupin agreed. "But I'm worried about more than that- now that Bill's got his Auror license and Fleur's pregnant with their first child…I mean, they're a prime target…just like…." He trailed off, and stared out the window. It only took Hermione a moment to figure out who he was talking about.

"James and Lily Potter?" she asked, in a small voice. A long, weary sigh confirmed she was right. Hermione already knew that James had gotten his Auror license around the time that Lily was pregnant with Harry- Bill and Fleur's situation was startlingly similar to the Potter's, especially since Bill Weasley was one of the more outspoken wizards with enough power to do some damage to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. "I thought they were moving to London."

"Bill's convinced they're safer in France. Which is fair enough, I mean, there's only a few known Death Eaters who habit France, and he does have the Fidelius Charm performed on his house…" Another sigh. "I just like it when they're all close together. They can't take any chances." He gave her a thin smile. "And the reason I'm telling you all of this, my dear," he said, trying to inject a jovial tone into the conversation, "is because I want you to know that you can't be too careful. Yes, we are winning, but there's no safe way of knowing exactly what is going to happen."

Suddenly Hermione thought of the previous Friday night, and Harry's furious words bit back at her. I trust you enough not to let anything slip. But it's dangerous, you know, he could slip you a truth serum or hex you or anything while you're in here…. Hermione shivered. She'd declared without conviction that Draco was innocent- she'd just said it at the time, but later on, thinking about it, she wasn't entirely sure.

"But what am I worrying about," said Lupin, shrugging his shoulders. "That lovely chap you see a lot isn't about to let anything bad happen to you, is he?"

"Lovely chap? Oh! You mean Ron-" Hermione faltered. Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"Is everything…okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course! Ron is lovely." And he does go out of his way to protect me, Hermione reminded herself. She felt trouble for a bit, wondering why she didn't feel like she should have said that with more conviction. Lovely? Surely Ron meant more to her than just…lovely. Lupin was regarding her quietly, a curious gleam in his hazel eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?" he inquired finally.

"What? No!"

"Sorry," he said, leaning back in his chair, "only you look a bit, sort of…worried. Is everything okay between you two?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. And without warning, she'd spilled the whole story to him, about tutoring Draco and keeping it from Ron, having Harry find out and forcing him not to say anything; about Ron, fighting with him for the first time in ages and having things not quite back to normal, his strange behaviour, and finally how he hadn't given her a gift, had hardly even noticed it was her birthday, and…and…

Before she knew it, she was crying over Ron again- something she had hoped would stop when they worked their feelings out. Lupin took her into those comforting arms and calmed her, chuckling, of all things.

"You've got it all wrong, Hermione," he said, passing her a box of tissues from Dumbledore's desk. "I know you're both mature for your age but you're still only fifteen years old. You've got a long way to go before you're going to be able to be in love without being confused. It's just a natural part of growing up. Things'll work out, you'll see." Ron's strange behavior he dismissed as "adolescent bewilderment," and added with a twinkle in his eyes that "Ron's probably more than you think." He dismissed her with a final, comforting hug and another quick kiss.

Lupin had given Hermione something to think about for the rest of the day, but she wasn't distracted from the fact Ron still had yet to give her a gift. She knew it was petty, and deep down she knew that she'd rather have Ron than all of her other birthday gifts- but he had been so inattentive lately that she felt that maybe it would make up for it. Even though she knew that was petty as well- and untrue. Maybe he forgot, Hermione thought, as she entertained herself with morbid thoughts during History of Magic. Maybe he only just remembered this morning and hurriedly conjured up some flowers… As she stared vacantly at him, he turned and gave her a grin. He'd been ever so attentive all day long, though. Hermione frowned. Maybe he really had only remembered it was her birthday that morning, and decided to drop his cold demeanor as compensation for not buying her a present…

Hermione shook her head. Compensation? Not buying a present? She was turning into the kind of shallow, clingy girl that she herself despised. This is exactly what's wrong with our relationship, she berated herself, I'm turning into something I hate. She suddenly regretted letting Lavender do her hair and makeup that morning- she felt shallow, petty and prissy. But why did Ron, the boy she adored, have that effect on her?

She didn't have an answer.

"Something wrong?" Ron whispered to her. "You don't look quite like yourself."

*

"You know she thinks you've forgotten?" Harry mumbled to him as they followed Hermione, Lavender, Dean and Seamus up the stairs after dinner. Ron looked at him, startled.

"She said that?"

"Not in as many words," Harry said, with a shrug. "So where is it?"

"In my pocket," Ron said, patting the little package that he'd been hiding in there since that morning.

"Why haven't you given it to her already?" Harry complained, "haven't you seen how upset she is?"

"She's upset?" Ron said blankly. "I thought she was just pissed off because Neville broke the crystal ball he'd brought her." Harry rolled his eyes and decided not to answer.

"Look, I've got to run- Remus had something else to tell me before he hikes back up to the mountains…" Harry's voice trailed away as the ever-more familiar gleam of worry entered his eyes.

"You know he'll be okay," Ron said reassuredly, stopping. "We'll catch up with you!" he added to the others. His stomach slipped a little when Hermione turned back and gave him an unreadable glance. Was that "upset"? he wondered. If she really was that upset, she'd done a good job of hiding it all day.

"I just wish he wasn't going alone, you know?" Harry said quickly. He smiled. "Anyway- when are you going to give it to her?"

"When we're alone," Ron said, after a quick decision. "I think…maybe I should talk to her for a bit." He blushed, knowing he sounded corny.

"Maybe you should," said Harry, fixing him with a meaningful stare. Ron smiled, feeling grateful that Harry was the kind of friend who didn't care how corny he sounded. He passed on his goodbye to Remus, having already seen his former teacher that morning, for a short time in Dumbledore's office, and then climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor tower.

The party he had organised for her was in full swing- all of the Gryffindor students had been delighted when Ron announced he was throwing a party for Hermione on Thursday night. After all, the sixteenth birthday of one of the Gryffindor prefects was the perfect excuse to take a night off from homework and eat sweets until they were sick. Ron and Harry had already gone to Honedyukes earlier and raided the basement, taking as many sweets as they could carry. Dean had also made a large banner that said "Happy Birthday Hermione" and Seamus had conjured up a few decorations. Lavender had made ridiculous hats for everyone, and when Ron opened the portrait hole he found her just inside, conjuring up piles of flowers from her wand.

"Looks great- where's Hermione?"

"Oh, over there!" she cried happily, pointing with her wand and sending several orchids flying into the back of an unsuspecting second year's head. Ron turned to see her hugging Dean- who seemed to have made a habit of giving her red roses. He frowned. He trusted Dean enough not to know that there wasn't any funny business going on, but still…

He headed for her at once, stopping once or twice to say hello to well-wishers, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Oh! Hello," she said, flush faced and bright eyed from the excitement. "What's up? Did you know there was going to be a party for me?"

"Didn't know a thing," Ron joked. "Look, come upstairs with me for a moment, would you?"

Hermione was staring at him. She shook her head slightly. "Sure, whatever."

He led her by the hand up to the boys dorms, ignoring the wolf whistles and whoops from those who noticed, though he did blush horribly. "What is it?" Hermione insisted the moment he had closed the door behind them.

"Well," said Ron, "it's your birthday."

She looked stonily at him. "Yes, well spotted. Did you realise when you saw the large banner hanging on the wall, or was it just a lucky guess?" Harry must be right, thought Ron, otherwise why would she be acting like this? Hopefully his gift would be enough to coax her out of the mood she was in.

"Lucky guess, I suppose," he answered, fumbling in his pocket. She rolled her eyes, and was about to say something- probably derogatory- when she saw the tiny package he had just pulled out of his pocket. Her mouth closed.

"What's that?' she asked, with nothing less than suspicion. Merlin's beard, how did I miss the gigantic anger clot she's been harbouring all day? Ron thought. He handed her the little package of tissue paper. (A red velvet box had seemed a bit too corny.)

"It's your present, of course," he said, rather too defensively than he would have liked. Her reaction was immediate. She looked…upset.

"Oh…oh, dear…Ron- you really shouldn't have." She put a hand over her eyes- with the other she held the precious package. "God, I feel…stupid."

"Why?" Ron asked, bewildered. "Did- did you think I hadn't gotten you anything apart from those crummy roses?"

She brought her head up, with a long sniffle. "Yes," she admitted in a tiny voice. Now it was Ron's turn to feel stupid. Idiot! I should have given it to her the moment I saw her! She's spent her entire birthday thinking…

"Oh god- Hermione, you daft cow!" Ron cried, moved to hug her. She laughed into his shoulder. "I can't believe you would even think that. Did you think I'd forget your own birthday? It's only, like, the best day of the year next to Christmas."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" she said, laughing a little tearfully. She hit him on the arm. "You should have mentioned you had it with you."

"I know," Ron admitted. "Sirius brought it up this morning- that's why I wasn't part of the welcoming committee in your bedroom this morning-" She slapped her head again. Clearly she had been angry about that too- "I had to go to Dumbledore's office to get it. Believe me, I've had to sit on my hands to avoid giving it to you. I just wanted to…you know, be by ourselves." He looked down at his feet. He was blushing again. "So that it would be…important, you know?" He grinned at her, trying to erase the serious tone of the conversation. "So open it already!"

"Okay," she agreed, carefully peeling away the tissue paper. Inside the tissue paper was a little velvet pocket. And inside the little velvet pocket…

"Oh!" Her gasp was a mixture of astonishment and delight. "Oh…oh, Ron…"

It was a golden Claddagh ring- a traditional Irish wedding band that had, over many years, become a symbol of everlasting love. Ron knew she was familiar with the famous symbol because she had mentioned that her grandmother was Irish. He thought it was appropriate since he also had an Irish background, and also because he thought it was pretty. The centre of the ring was a crowned heart, encircled by two hands, the "arms" of which made up the ring. Hermione gently lifted it out of its velvet pocket with a slightly trembly hand. "Ron…" she said, shaking her head. "It's beautiful…" She looked up at him, with another shake of her head.

"No, you are," he said, sincerely. His heart was beating a little quicker than was normal. He reached a hand around her neck and pulled back her hair- out of her face. He liked it that way (why was she wearing make up, anyway? Didn't she know she looked gorgeous all the time? He liked her much better the way she usually was.) She was beautiful. Far too beautiful for a gawky scarecrow like himself- he knew that. A girl as lovely as Hermione should have been dating some Quidditch pitch hunk like Oliver Wood, or Ernie MacMillan, or…or Draco Malfoy.

But she's all mine, Ron thought with an aching heart as he looked at her gaze back at him in rapture. "Ron," she said in a whisper, "this must have cost…I mean, surely you couldn't…"

"Afford it?" Ron said, and he blushed again. It had been slightly pricey- but it had been Muggle money, after all. He had gotten Fred and George to exchange it for him at gringotts, and Muggle pounds and pence were worth slightly less than the Wizarding Galleon. And in any case, he would have spent all the money in his account for her, and more- if he had it. True, he and his family were living a lot more comfortably these days, but they were still no match for the Malfoy Mansion set. For the first time in his life, though, he had money, and he didn't care if it all went to Hermione. "I don't care. Seamus even told me what the parts mean, see," he added, taking the ring from her, "The heart stands for love- obviously. The hands stand for friendship, and the crown…well, it stands for loyalty." He swallowed as her doe eyes filled with tears. "And I thought it was appropriate, you know, because we were friends first and whatever has happened between us we've always stayed…loyal…" He paused for a moment, distracted by her eyes blinking up at him. "And now we've definitely got love…" His stomach lurched with an indefinable feeling. "So, um…which finger should I put it on?" He picked up her left hand. "I like this one," he decided aloud, and slid it onto her fourth finger. The charm he'd put on the ring worked flawlessly- it shrank until it fit her delicate finger perfectly. He sucked in his breath sharply. Everything felt very funny- almost too serious. Maybe he shouldn't have out it onto the fourth finger- it was the wedding finger after all, and they weren't married- or getting married, for that matter. Oh jeez, what's wrong with me?

Too fast, too fast, he realised. He wasn't old enough or sure enough about his feelings to make any promises he couldn't keep. He wondered if Hermione thought it was a promise.

If she did, she didn't say anything. She let out a little, choked sigh and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Ron's stomach lurched again. Everything was close- he felt a bit claustrophobic- and the dorm was secluded enough to make him think of things that he definitely wasn't ready for.

Especially when she kissed him the way she did- with enough passion and love to make Ron's heart melt and press against her. He felt as though his knees were a bit weak, so he sat down onto one of the beds, bringing her with him. But everything felt confused- he wanted to get outside and be alone, so he could breathe and sort things out. He had been going crazy over the past week, pushing her away but wanting her so badly. Her birthday, he thought, could be an indulgence- it was a special day, and he would be able to hug her and kiss her as much as his heart desired. And he had- but she had been acting funny, which he thought was no less than he deserved, because he knew he'd been terrible over the past week but he just couldn't think with all the things that were going on and the way she made him feel and his heart singing at the sight of her but his stomach curling up in fear. It was so hard sometimes, not to grab her and yell at the top of his lungs that he was in love with her. Ron had always thought the first time he fell in love he'd be happy- unbearably happy, like love was supposed to make one feel. But it was torturous, sometimes- torturous to not be able to hold her when he wanted, or to act the way he really felt around her, and those terrible night when he would stay awake, thinking, always thinking does she love me? Is it wrong to love her this much? What's happened since we got together? What's changed?

"Hermione," he said, breathing hard when they broke apart. "Please- please wait-"

She was breathing hard as well, looking up at him with something like…fear, almost. Her hands were shaking as they rubbed around the back of his neck. "Of course, anything…"

"We've…we've got to stay friends," he said, reaching around to the back of his neck and grabbing her hand tightly. "Promise me that if anything- whatever happens between us, we'll always stay friends. Okay?"

She looked bewildered. "What do you mean? Do you think- are we breaking up, are we-"

"No!" Ron gasped. "I just mean- for the future, you know. Whatever happens, we'll always be friends, won't we?"

She looked at him for a moment. "You know we will," she said breathily. "We're friends now- we always will be."

Ron felt like something had been anchored- one of his confused trains of through had finally pulled into the station. "Hermione," he sighed, lying down next to her contededly, as she fell back onto the pillow. For a long moment, she just took his hand and looked at him, searching his eyes for- what? Then they kissed again, softly at first and then firmer and longer and there were tears on Hermione's cheeks- "I'm just really happy," she explained- and he ran her hands up her back into her long hair which was silky rather than coarse, and she had loosened his school tie a bit and both of them were just a little bit frightened. So they kissed some more and hugged some more until the door burst open and Harry, Dean and Lavender rushed in.

Harry gave a sort of strangled screech as they both sat up, hurriedly straightening their robes. "No!" he wailed, "not on my bed!"