By: Chinese Fireball
Author's Note: This story was inspired by the popular New Year's Eve quote cited below, though I'm not sure if the wording of the quotation is quite correct. There seems to be many variations to it, but I think the version below is considered the most popular. This story takes place on New Year's Eve during their sixth year, making Ron sixteen and Hermione seventeen. Enjoy and Happy New Year!
How you spend New Year's Eve determines how you spend the rest of your year.
It was a stupid Muggle saying, a silly superstition really, but it brought her here to the roof of the Astronomy Tower nevertheless. Exasperating to herself, she shook her head in self reprimand for her recent action or rather inaction downstairs in the Room of Requirement. Since when did she believed in foolish superstitions, an assumption without merit, but then again, she once didn't believe in magic either only to be proven wrong, perhaps there was some merit to the idiom, at least the last five years seemed to support this assumption.
Sighing once again, she saw her breath dissipating into a condensing, translucent, vaporous puff. It was evidently cold, as late December in Scotland usually is, but she didn't feel it, she felt considerably colder inside. Looking up to the cloudless starry sky, she pondered silently and made a wish on the first star she saw, hoping beyond hope that it would become reality, despite her hesitation to believe in a silly notion like wishes.
She begrudgingly returned her gaze to the blue moon, which was reflected on the paradoxically unfrozen waters of the lake, to ponder not of Remus Lupin, as she usually does during full moons, but to contemplate how she had customarily spent this particular night in the past. She came here for some solace and reflection, to think and most importantly to get away from him. The only person she knew that could make or break her heart with a simple lopsided smile.
In her first year, she spent this night with her family, albeit her mind was elsewhere and her nose buried under a stack of books in the hopes to solve the mystery of Nicholas Flamel. Consequently, that was how she spent most of the year, her noise in a book trying to solve one mystery after another, which was how she ended up in the Hospital Wing the following year. This very night in her sophomore year was spent healing from an ill-fated Polyjuice Potion, in order to prove or disprove that Draco Malfoy was the heir of Salazar Slytherin. Sadly, she not only spent another month in the Hospital Wing, but she also returned three months later after being petrified by a Basilisk. In the following year, she spent this night in the library trying not to cry, because she had a flaming row with both her best friends over a suspicious broom. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only row that year, a month later after their reconciliation; she got into another flaming row, this time only with Ron over the alleged murder of his pet rat, Scabbers supposedly committed by her pet cat, Crookshanks.
"Ron," she whispered wishfully, her voice barely above a murmur, the corners of her mouth curved slightly upwards. Lately her thoughts have been gravitating towards him more than usual and it was not an uncommon occurrence that she secretly smiled to herself while thinking of him.
The incident with their pets were followed by many minor rows with the redhead in question throughout the rest of the year and into the autumn, ending up with a spectacular flaming row with the same flaming redhead at the Yule Ball over her taste in dates. So it wasn't a surprise that she spent this night in her fourth year rowing with the redhead over a certain Bulgarian Seeker. She spent most of the following year rowing with him not just over Viktor Krum, but over a myriad of minor matters. They row so much that it became common place to hear a screaming match in the Gryffindor Common Room and bets were placed to when they would make up and how long the peace will last before the next row.
"Stupid prat," she chuckled to herself, shaking her head, her slight grin deepened into a grimace. She had often wondered if Ron ever knew that she enjoyed rowing with him and sometimes forced an argument to avoid certain matters of her heart, but that was all moot now, it was too late.
This time last year, she spent this night not just worrying about Ron and his father, who was recently attacked in the Ministry of Magic, but over the impending war and the deaths that would ensue. Tragically, she had seen more deaths this year than she did in her entire life, the most tragic and most senseless of them was Sirius Black. His death was the tip of the iceberg and the following year was filled with reports of deaths from both sides. Yet in spite of being in the middle of a war, she was thinking about him tonight -- New Year's Eve.
"Arugh!" Hermione groaned with utter frustration, while banging her head on the stone banister. Ron, the blessing and bane of her existence was clueless to how she felt towards him, not that it was entirely his fault, she gave very little indications that she had more than plutonic feelings towards him. On the other hand, maybe he did notice and didn't have the heart to break hers; she was hoping that this wasn't the case. It further complicates matters when Ron is considered one of the, if not, thickest man on the planet. "Why are the cute ones so clueless?" She moaned quietly to herself, while she continued to tap her head on the banister.
Returning her gaze to the peculiarly serene lake, she quickly blinked away the unshed tears that wanted, begged, pleaded to be realised, but she kept them at bay. She did not want to cry, not over him, and not tonight, though she had a good reason to. Although Hermione didn't believe in the superstition, she didn't want to tempt fate either. The fact is, Ron was the only boy that could drive her to tears and the only person who could comfort her when she was crying.
It was useless. She was completely, utterly, unconditionally, and hopelessly in love with him. She denied it, rationalised it, masked it, danced around it, flirted with it, and finally accepted it -- accepted that she was indeed in love with one Ronald Weasley. The only boy she knew that could take her to new levels of anger and at the same time enflame passions she didn't know were possible. The same boy that defended her honour on numerous occasions, faced his fears to save her life, and been there for her when she needed him, but now she wanted more. She wanted to be held by him, feel his lips on hers, and she wanted him to whisper sweet nothings into her ears, she wanted to be happy with him, but it was too late.
For the past five years, she had been alone on this night and she stayed alone throughout the year thus adding evidence to the superstition. Even in her fourth year when Viktor Krum had wanted to meet her, she didn't get the chance to. Somehow, Ron found out about the date and they got into another flaming row, which made her forget about her rendez-vous altogether.
The first few years, she didn't care nor thought about the stupid superstition or even gave credence to it. She was content being in the company of her best friends and her books, but as time passed by, she noticed that it was lonely on the top, academically speaking, and wanted the comfort of being held by someone who was in love with her. She wanted that person to be Ron, but now she's afraid that she lost her chance, all because of a missed opportunity, an inaction, and lack of courage. She had failed and she had no one else to blame, but herself. It was the first time she had ever failed and it just so happened to be the most important thing in her life.
"No, don't you dare cry!" Hermione exclaimed, rebuking herself. "He is not worth it and not tonight of all nights," whispered Hermione. All she wanted to do was cry, but she knew that from past experiences, if she cried tonight then tears would invariable follow her throughout the following year, which is something that she didn't want.
A week ago, Hermione made an early New Year's Resolution to not spend New Year's Eve alone again, to spend it with someone special, to spend it with Ron. She had planned to spend the entire night with him and during the course of the evening she would tell Ron her feelings. She had fantasised his reaction to her news, but now that's what it was, a fantasy and a shattered one at that.
Earlier in the evening, Hermione left her room with one purpose, to spend the entire night with Ron Weasley and to tell him her feelings. Apparently, Headmaster Dumbledore felt the need to celebrate the New Year to boost student morale from the rigors of the war. So he took steps to ensure it, by hiring the Weasley twins to give the student a spectacular fireworks display to welcome in the New Year. For three days, the twins have been planting Weasleys' Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs all over campus in anticipation of the event, but in secret the twins have been planning something more dubious and mischievous, an exclusive New Year's Eve party to end all parties.
Hermione didn't know what to expect when she entered the Room of Requirement, but whatever she could have imagined would pale in comparison to what she saw. Music pounded so loudly that it literally reverberated from the walls and multicoloured fireworks of miniature dragons, griffins, phoenixes, unicorns, and winged-horses whizzed by over their heads playing a complicated game of chase. A couple of headless students ran passed her with laughter emanating from their invisible heads and in her peripheral vision, she saw Dennis Creevey transfigured into a giant canary while Euan Abercrombie trying to laugh at him over his gorged tongue.
Hermione wasn't sure if this was a New Year's Eve party or a promotional party for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, but it seemed like everyone was having fun regardless -- even Harry, who seemed to be in a perpetual dark mood since the beginning of the year was smiling and laughing. He was dancing wildly with Ginny Weasley without a care in the world. She watched them with a complacent smile for a moment before she started looking for Ron. Instead, she saw two identical redheads laughing hysterically at something, wondering what was so funny, she followed their gaze, what she saw broke her heart.
There in the corner of the room was a very red and stunned Ron Weasley being snogged by Cho Chang! Hermione was so shocked that she didn't know what to do, at first she wanted to hex Cho Chang into next week and claim what was rightfully hers, but instead she ran away. She found herself gravitating towards the Astronomy Tower where she had been brooding for about an hour.
"Cho Bloody Chang," she swore under her breath, cursing her existence.
Hermione didn't understand it, of all the girls at Hogwarts; she thought Cho Chang would be the last girl whom Ron wanted to end up with, though she couldn't blame him. She was an Asian beauty with long shiny ebony hair that loved Quidditch, she was in fact captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team and Head Girl, it was the sort of girl that Ron would fancy, but she thought that Ron would have more sense than to pursue her. There were at least five reasons she could think of from the top of her head that could go wrong with their relationship.
First of all, she was Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend; she thought that Ron would have enough sense to avoid that particular relationship quagmire at least for Harry's sake. Secondly, she knew that Ron didn't care for the company she kept, namely Marietta Edgecombe and girls similar to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil that seemed to follow her around. Thirdly, she was a Ravenclaw and she knew that Ron didn't completely trust any house outside of Gryffindor. Fourthly, she was a Tutshill Tornados fan, she couldn't really see Ron being with anyone that wasn't in love with the Chudley Cannons or at least tolerated the team and finally, Cho was far too emotional for Ron to handle. She didn't understand it! There were more things going against the relationship than going for it.
"Hermione?" His familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed breathlessly, turning around she confirmed her suspicions -- not that she needed confirmation; she could recognise his whisper in a loud and crowded room, because it was branded onto her heart.
There he was as bright as day, standing at his incredible height, broad shoulders, strong arms, and a defined body most likely from playing Quidditch. His blazing red hair was being teased slightly by the winter wind and his two azure blue eyes twinkled brighter than any stars above her -- a pleasant change from the lanky boy she met on the train five years ago. She hated how just being in his presence made her knees weak, her voice crack, her stomach queasy, her heart jump, and her breath vanish, but the most heinous crime was that her brain turned to mush whenever he was near her.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, finally finding her voice. "What do you want?" She asked venomously, remembering that she was angry at him.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," whispered Ron, ignoring the steel edge in her voice, as he approached her with a tankard of steaming Butterbeer. He placed the tankard on the stone banister with a concerned face, his azure blue eyes never diverted from her chocolate brown eyes. "I was worried about you when you didn't show up to the party, so I asked Gin to see what was keeping you, but she couldn't find you anywhere," replied Ron, his gentle voice disarming.
Noticing that she was cold, Ron unclasped his cloak and ceremoniously draped it over her shoulders. His fingers gently tickled the skin on the nape of her neck under her bushy brown hair as he freed her tresses that were caught under his cloak when he clasped it around her. That simple act of chivalry made her fall in love with him all over again, even though she knew that he didn't feel the same way.
"How did you find me?" She asked in a whisper, her anger forgotten.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," replied Ron chuckling roguishly, repeating the mantra of the Marauder's Map. "Though I was quite surprised when I found out that you were here," replied Ron in astonishment, his hands travelled the contour of her neck and rested on her shoulders for a few heartbeats before travelling the lengths of her arms, rubbing it a few times to generate warmth. "What are you doing up here without your cloak? It's nearly midnight and this cold would be the death of you," said Ron in a concerned voice. He gently held both her hands together, rubbing them vigorously, and brought them to his mouth and blew on them for extra warmth.
"I-I-Is it really?" She stuttered nervously and she knew it wasn't from the cold. The instant those words came out of her mouth, she kicked herself mentally. Of course it was cold, it was the dead of winter in the middle of the night on the highest tower at Hogwarts, what did she expect -- a Tahitian summer? She hated how she lost all sense of reason when his proximity to her was very close, like he was now. He was still holding her hand so very close to his mouth keeping them warm with his breath and his heavenly and penetrating azure blue eyes never diverted from hers since his arrival.
"Haven't you noticed? You're as cold as an ice-cube, as white as Professor Binns and your lips show the distinctive blue hue to that of Moaning Myrtle's," replied Ron with apprehension, his once brilliant smile turned into a frown of concern.
"No, not really," whispered Hermione, it was the truth, before Ron got there, Hermione felt colder inside and when he arrived she only started to noticed that it was the middle of winter. She then saw his concerned face quickly turned into a panicked one. Ron abruptly placed the palm of his hand on her forehead, then lifted her chin with his the same hand so he could examine her face, and then looked at her finger tips with a concerned haste. "Ron, what are you doing?" She asked about his strange behaviour.
"Checking for any signs of pneumonia or frostbites," replied Ron, as it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't think I see any indications of either, but maybe we should head to the Hospital Wing to have Madam Pomfrey check you up just in case," said Ron, while trying to lead her away with his hand on the small of her back.
"No!" She exclaimed, turning to face him, placing a hand on his chest to stop him. Hermione instantly noticed where her hand landed and immediately relinquished it from the blue jumper that she knitted for him for Christmas, blushing furiously. "I-I-I'm fine. Really," stammered Hermione nervously, wrapping Ron's cloak around her more tightly. She slowly headed towards the stone banister, returning her gaze to the pristine lake. She could feel his eyes on her back, knowing that he was looking at her. Had the Basilisk in her second year had his eyes, she would have gaze directly in them and died happily.
"Hermione," replied Ron, his voice laced with concern.
Sighing to herself, she turned around and sheepishly looked into his eyes. "Look Ron, I'm feeling much warmer now," insisted Hermione reassuringly, but she still saw some doubt in his eyes. "Really, I don't need to go to the Hospital Wing," added Hermione adamantly, giving a reassuring smile. The truth was, she didn't want to spend another New Year's Eve in the Hospital Wing.
Ron sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly, raising his hands in defeat. "All right, don't say I didn't warn you if Madam Pomfrey is forced to amputate a toe or a finger," replied Ron teasingly, as he approached her.
"Ron," she admonished him, trying to hide her smile, albeit unsuccessfully. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine," said Hermione, enunciating the last three words for effect.
"Hmm...knowing how thick-headed people say I am, particularly from you..." said Ron, feigning contemplation, "about a million times," he finally said with a brilliant smile.
"A million?" Hermione asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe more," confessed Ron with a slight chuckle, which they shared, while Ron examined her once more and concluded that she was looking better, but still really cold. "Hermione, humour me and take a few sips of my Butterbeer. I put a Warming Charm on it and it should warm you up in no time," suggested Ron.
With a bashful smile, she took the tankard out of his hands, their fingers brushing slightly as she felt a spark of electricity surge through her body. The tankard warmed her hand quickly, although she had to admit that she liked it better when Ron was holding her hands and blowing on them to keep her warm. Looking furtively through her eyelashes once more, she took a few sips of the beverage and it quickly warmed her throat, then her lungs and torso, and then the rest of her body.
"Thanks," muttered Hermione quietly to herself, she blushed slightly when she realised that her lips touched the same spot on the rim as his lips, like some sort of an indirect kiss. She haphazardly placed the tankard back on the stone banister and mentally rebuked herself for acting as giddy as a schoolgirl, she mentally kicked herself again when that thought crossed her mind -- she is a schoolgirl and could act like one if she wanted to.
Her thoughts were interrupted when his hand was placed on her shoulder to turn her around gently to face him. Ron then caressed her cheek with his fingers and lifted her chin so their eyes met. His amazing blue eyes probed her face and she felt her face blushing profusely, her knees weakened, her stomach fluttered, and her heart skipped a beat. Then his concerned face brightened up with a brilliant lopsided smile. "That's better," said Ron, sighing with relief. "Most of your colour has returned." Hermione was about to gloat when his smile quickly turned into a frown. "Uh oh, I know that look, what's wrong?" He asked, his eyes still probing hers as if he was delving into her soul.
"Oh?" She mused, raising her eyebrow. She quickly relinquished eye contact so the probe into her soul wouldn't go too deep. "Since when do you presume to know my looks or understand woman for that matter?" Hermione asked teasingly, hoping to change the conversation.
Ron chuckled loudly at the question. "Woman, I don't think that I would ever truly understand your kind even if I lived to be as old as Professor Dumbledore and I secretly think that you women prefer it that way, otherwise there won't be any mystery left in the world. Plus, I think you women like driving us men to the edge of insanity," said Ron bantering back. He saw that she was about to object to what he said when he quickly amended his statement. "I am, however, willing to spend a lifetime trying to figure out how that pretty head of yours work," confessed Ron, not realising his innuendo until it was too late.
"What?" Hermione gasped suddenly, her eyes the size of Quaffles.
"Um...er...what I meant was...er...all I meant was...er...that we're going to stay friends after we graduate and perhaps the rest of our lives, right?" Ron asked in a quick tentative manner, his ears turning a bright shade of red. Hermione had always loved how adorable he looked when he was embarrassed, especially around her. "Yeah, that's what I meant," muttered Ron, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course Ron, you're my best friend and you will always be," replied Hermione feeling, slightly crestfallen. She returned her gaze towards the dark lake. She was hoping that what Ron said was a declaration of his love for her, but on second thought, it was more than that, it was more like a prelude to a proposal, an engagement, a promise of a life together. Hermione stopped herself from hyperventilating; she knew that it was nothing more than a slip of a tongue on Ron's part. She groaned silently to herself and wondered why all the cute ones are so incredibly clueless.
"Good," replied Ron with a smile, feeling reassured. "Now, I may never understand women, but as one of your best mates, I do know a lot about you, not as much as I would like, but I do know more than most. I know that when you're angry you storm to your room, when you want to cry you run to the loo, when you want to hide you seek refuge at the library, when you're being reflective you sit by the lake under your favourite tree, and when you're brooding you come here to the Astronomy Tower." He pointed out.
Hermione gasped, feeling slightly indignant. "I'm not brooding! I do not brood!" She snapped, regretting it instantly when she did, the last thing she wanted to do tonight was to have a row with Ron, not on this night of all nights.
Ron sighed laboriously, shaking his head and biting his tongue to prevent a row. "Then tell me, what are you doing here? Please, tell me what's on your mind?" He asked calmly.
She mentally slapped herself again, returning her gaze to the lake, not only had Ron held his temper, something that he was notoriously poor at doing, but he had managed to steer the conversation back on topic. However, the most heinous crime was that he was right about her -- that she was up here to brood, though she would never give him the satisfaction of gloating.
"I was thinking," said Hermione flatly, after a long period of silence.
"About what?"
"Nothing of importance," replied Hermione with an exasperated sigh. "It's stupid really."
"Really?" Ron's voice had the sound of laughter. "This should be good, a stupid idea from Hermione Granger, super genius, should be a very profound idea to thick blocks like me," complimented Ron cheekily.
Hermione blushed slightly at his compliment. "No Ron, it's really stupid," reiterated Hermione, this time with emphasis.
"Well now this should be really interesting," replied Ron, his voice sounding giddier. "It's not everyday that Hermione Granger brings herself down to our level," said Ron teasingly.
"Ron," admonished Hermione.
"Hermione," said Ron, this time his voice filled with gentleness. "I really want to know," continued Ron, squeezing her hand gently. "It has to be something burdensome or else you wouldn't be up here in the middle of the night brooding -- and I know you are brooding, despite what you say," replied Ron, before Hermione could object, he continued. "Stupid or not I want to know."
"Why?"
"It bothers you," said Ron simply, "and what bothers you concerns me, because I'm your best mate and I care about you," confessed Ron, knowing that his ears were slowly becoming pink.
Hermione sighed incredulously, smiling inwardly. It gave her great comfort knowing that Ron cared about her, no matter how much she pushed him away. "Promise you won't laugh?"
"I promise," replied Ron, smiling genuinely, "but I retain the right to tease you later on."
"Fine," agreed Hermione reluctantly. "It's a stupid Muggle superstition referring to New Year's Eve," confessed Hermione.
"Oh?" Ron croaked, suddenly blushing furiously. "W-w-what is it?"
"I think it's a Russian saying, but I'm not sure. It goes something like this: How you spend New Year's Eve determines how you spend the rest of your year," replied Hermione sadly.
"Interesting," said Ron nodding, sighing with relief, his blush fading. "Do you believe in it?"
"No," answered Hermione, much too quickly. "It's just a stupid Muggle superstition."
Ron pondered about what Hermione said, while taking another sip from his steaming Butterbeer. "Liar," replied Ron, his voice devoid of any accusatory inflection. "If you didn't believe in it at least a little you wouldn't be here to begin with," replied Ron matter-of-factly.
"Can't fool you can I?" Hermione asked rhetorically, her gaze still concentrated on the lake. "It's just that in the past recent years it seemed to be true," replied Hermione, after a long moment of silence.
"Oh? How so?"
Hermione took a cleansing breath and turned to him and looked into his blue eyes for support. She then explained everything to him in gory detail, from her New Year's Eve in her first year trying to solve the mystery of Nicholas Flamel to her most recent sojourn worrying about the impending war and how each year mirrored how she spent her New Year's Eve.
Ron listened carefully to everything she said, taking in her explanation. He was about to say something when he noticed something in her eyes -- a deep sadness. "There's something more," said Ron, gazing deeper into her chocolate brown eyes, her soul. "You were crying...no, you were holding back tears earlier," replied Ron observantly.
Her immediate defence mechanism was to object such a courageous, but unfounded statement, but she decided to suppress it. Ron had been uncannily accurate in catching her in her fabrications tonight, but it didn't stop her from evading the subject matter. "It's silly really," said Hermione softly, after an eternity of silence.
"Silly or not, I still want to know."
"Why?"
"Didn't we have this conversation all ready?" Ron asked, answering her question with a question, feeling a tad frustrated. "I want to know because you're my best mate and I care about you," explained Ron once again, this time he was so serious that he didn't even blush.
"That was for being stupid not silly."
"Well it works for silly too."
"You're incorrigible, you know that?"
"No, don't know the meaning of the word, but I am persistent."
Hermione chuckled slightly at the unwarranted synonym. "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you," said Hermione in an uncharacteristically singsong voice, which worried Ron somewhat. "It's full of what you Neanderthal men consider girlie stuff," added Hermione teasingly. She knew she was being difficult, it had to be done. She didn't want to have a broken heart tonight, because she feared that the following year would give her nothing, but heartache.
Ron swallowed hard. "I'll take my chances."
Hermione cursed silently to herself, profaning the Gryffindor courage for the first time in her life and pondering the reason why Ron had an abundance of it tonight. "I'm alone," declared Hermione, her voice more coarse than usual. "I spent all my New Year's Eve alone since I came to Hogwarts and that's how I felt for the last five years. At first I didn't care, but as I got older..." Her voice trailed off failing her.
"I'm hurt," said Ron playfully, placing both his hands over his heart feigning mortal injury. "What are Harry and me? Chopped Flobberworm?" He taunted relentlessly.
"That's not what I meant!" Hermione snapped.
"Then, what do you mean?"
"I'm lonely Ron," explained Hermione sorrowfully. "I want companionship, I want what everyone I know has and I thought that if I wasn't alone on New Year's Eve, I wouldn't be alone for the rest of the year. It's rather pathetic isn't it? Putting all my hopes in a stupid Muggle superstition," replied Hermione, chuckling bitterly.
"I don't think so," replied Ron sympathetically. "There are worse things to believe in."
Hermione chuckled wryly. "You could say that because you're already with someone."
"I am? Who?"
"You don't have to lie Ron," replied Hermione bitterly. "I saw you and Cho Chang together tonight." Hermione expected many responses from Ron, but laughter wasn't one of them. Ron was laughing so hard that he almost suffocated. "What's so funny?" Hermione asked angrily.
"Me...Cho...not together," replied Ron, through peals of laughter.
"But I saw..."
"Cho was sloshed," interjected Ron, through a dying chuckle. "It was one of the twins newer, but highly experimental inventions, Gutted Glaciers. It was partially inspired by the hex I took at the Department of Mysteries last summer," explained Ron solemnly, while remembering the incident.
"The Inebriation Hex?"
"Yeah," replied Ron. "The Gutted Glaciers is one of the twins' more ingenious inventions. Somehow the twins managed to combine the Inebriation Hex and a Cooling Charm into an ice-cube that never melts. When a Gutted Glacier is placed into a drink it is instantly dissolved, cooling the drink at the same time. When someone unexpectedly drinks it, the Inebriation Hex activates and the person acts drunk until the spell wears off, without any ill effect of actually being drunk," explained Ron. "The twins thought Cho would make a good guinea pig, because she reminded them of Percy."
"So, Cho was magically inebriated?"
"Drunk like a skunk, she was," replied Ron, while taking a sip of his Butterbeer. "Whereas I become a bumbling, giggling idiot when drunk, Cho turns into a...scarlet woman," said Ron teasingly. Hermione blushed slightly when she heard that particular term. "You should have stayed, after I managed to get away from Cho, she started flirting with Seamus, then Terry Boot, Ernie Macmillan, Eddie Carmichael, Susan Bones, but she ended up with Dobby when the spell expired," said Ron, chuckling at the memory. Hermione couldn't help, but to chuckle with Ron. "Wait a tick, you didn't leave the party because you though Cho and I were..."
"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed, returning her gaze back to the lake, while trying to keep her rising blush down. "I-I-I was g-g-getting a headache f-f-from the music, it was too loud," explained Hermione, it was the first thing that came to her, though it might have been convincing enough, because Ron just nodded his head. She was elated that it was all a misunderstanding that Ron wasn't with Cho, that she still had her chance to be with him, but there was still a sliver of doubt in her heart, she needed to know, despite the risk of having her heart broken. "S-s-so, you and Cho were never together," asked Hermione tentatively.
"Hell! No! She's a Ravenclaw and likes the Tutshill Tornados for Merlin's sake!" Ron exclaimed. "Plus, Cho is Harry's ex-girlfriend, I don't think I would feel too comfortable courting someone that one of my best mates fancied, unless it's all right with him, and quite honestly, she's a tad too emotional for me, and don't get me started on the company she keep..." said Ron, shuddering.
Hermione smiled to herself, Ron is nothing, if not, predictable. This was the Ron she knew and loved and for the first time that night, she had hope. They were alone, on top of the Astronomy Tower under a blanket of twinkling stars and the looming brightness of the full moon hanging high in the sky. They had a panoramic view of the campus and the lake, it was romantic, idyllic and it was the perfect time for her to tell Ron how she feels.
"So you're single."
"Woefully so," replied Ron morosely, taking another sip of his Butterbeer, "though that fact alone provides the twins with great entertainment," said Ron offhandedly.
"Why is that?"
"I don't know," replied Ron with a sigh. "They find it amusing somehow to know that I'm still single, that I've never had a girlfriend, or even kissed anyone, soberly that is. They like to point out that even Percy had a girlfriend by my age, they constantly find pleasure in teasing me about it," replied Ron, taking another sip of his Butterbeer.
"Don't listen to them Ron, they're just being insensitive prats," said Hermione empathetically. She hated when anyone, especially the twins, put Ron down. She didn't understand why they did it; Ron's inferiority complex was big enough without them constantly putting him down.
"I know they are," replied Ron, sighing dejectedly, "but it still hurts."
"Ron, I'm sure that you're not the only one your age that's...inexperienced with girls," replied Hermione reassuringly.
"Actually, I am, at least for the Gryffindor blokes from our year," replied Ron, taking another sip of his Butterbeer. "Everyone has at least kissed a girl, even Neville," said Ron, chuckling bitterly. "I am the only one who hasn't kissed a girl, who was sober, that is," replied Ron downheartedly.
Hermione watched his demeanour and saw his shoulders slumped forward as he stared longingly into the ether, his hair still dancing in the slight winter breeze. For the first time that night, Hermione noticed that Ron was sad and lonely too, that she wasn't the only one. Her heart went out to him, no one should spend this particular night alone, especially Ron, she would be the answer to his lonesomeness as he was already the answer to hers, all she had to do is to tell him her feelings, but Ron found his voice first.
"Hermione, I have a confession to make," replied Ron nervously. "I didn't send Ginny to find you, because I was just worried about you, I was, but I had another reason why I wanted to know where you were," confessed Ron, as he gazed into her eyes.
"What is it, Ron?"
Ron chuckled slightly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Another stupid Muggle superstition, a different one," replied Ron through a dying chuckle. "I've been told that at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve Muggles kiss each other for good luck and...well, I wanted that person to be you," mumbled Ron, blushing profusely.
"Ron, I...what are you --"
"Please, let me finish," interrupted Ron insistently, by placing his index finger on her lips. "You see Hermione, the first time we met I was smitten with you, because you were the only girl I knew that could fight back at me without dropping a beat and from then on, I knew you were special, even when you drive me around the bend," began Ron timidly. He gently brushed her hair behind her ear and kept his hand there and gazed at her longingly. "As time passed, I found myself unconsciously fancying you, it lurked up on me, it did, but it was a terrifying, albeit pleasant surprise, but now..." Ron's voice drifted off.
"Y-y-yes Ron?"
"It's something more, something stronger," whispered Ron. "I'm not sure what is, but I think its love, no, I know its love, and I want to share it with you, that is, if you let me," said Ron hopefully.
Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Here, standing in front of her, holding her cheek was Ronald Weasley, telling her all the things she wanted to hear and all from the thickest boy on the planet, who was probably wasn't so thick anymore, but that feeling didn't last long. Just as she was getting used to the idea of a prospective Ron Weasley, he did something that warranted his title as thickest boy on the planet.
He relinquished his hand from her check, broke eye contact and meandered towards the stone banister dejectedly, turned his back to her, and gazed into the ether. Ron was demonstrating the quintessential demeanour of a despondent man, his head was down, his elbows resting on the banister, and his shoulder slumped forward. Hermione didn't understand it, one moment he was professing his love and the next moment, he was acting devastated. She was about to open her mouth when she heard his voice, it was so soft and quiet that at first she thought it was the wind whispering.
"I'll understand if you don't feel the same way or if you don't want to kiss me," replied Ron quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Actually, I prefer that you didn't if you don't feel the same way, I rather not have a pity kiss from you," replied Ron, his voice still crestfallen. "Just promise me that when you do break my heart, to do it gently."
Hermione groaned inwardly, he was the thickest man on the planet! How could he know her every mood by just reading her eyes or which sanctuary she goes to by just ascertaining her moods beforehand and yet he couldn't see that she returned his feelings? Taking a cleansing sigh, she pondered why all the cute ones were so clueless before she slowly meandered towards him. She stood beside him, trying to find the same courage he had shown her all night.
"Ron, I have a confession to make too," said Hermione, breaking the silence. "I did leave the party because I thought you and Cho were together."
"What?" Ron gasped in astonishment, his eyes the size of Quaffles.
Hermione chuckled slightly, gazing into his surprise azure blue eyes. "Ron, I only came to the party to be with you, so I could spend my New Year's Eve with you, because I'm tired of being alone and you're the only one that could lead me from my solitude, it was your companionship that I sought, it was you, it had always been you."
"Hermione, are you saying --"
"Yes Ron, I am. You see Ron, I was smitten with you too when we first met despite you being an insufferable prat, but somehow you got under my skin. I hated you for being able to do that, but no matter how hard I tried, and I'd tired, I couldn't shake you off and I found myself enjoying you under my skin. It was for that reason, that some time later, I found myself fancying you too, and now I find myself being in love with you too," confessed Hermione smiling meekly, while shutting Ron's dangling jaw.
"Y-y-you what?" Ron asked flabbergasted.
"You heard me Ronald Weasley," smiled Hermione, wrapping her arms around his neck and gazed into his azure blue eyes. "For reasons, only Merlin knows why, I've fallen in love with you," whispered Hermione smiling.
"Well, Merlin does work in mysterious ways and despite my using His name in vain on occasion, I trust Merlin to know the reasons why," replied Ron with an impish smirk, while wrapping his arms around her waist. "So, here we are: two people in love with each other, alone on the roof of the Astronomy Tower on New Year's Eve, whatever shall we do?" Ron asked mischievously, while resting his forehead on hers.
"Well, since we have ten seconds until midnight," replied Hermione, looking at her wristwatch. "We could participate in some silly Muggle superstitions," replied Hermione suggestively.
"Hmm...I like the way you think," replied Ron, smiling against her lips.
The kiss was electrifying, like an all consuming spark. Lightning flashes exploded through their veins, keeping them warm, like a roaring fire that never embers. Around them, thousands of multicoloured and various shaped Weasleys' Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs exploded with gusto, illuminating the clear night sky with bright colours, but all this went unnoticed by them, because the fireworks outside paled in comparison to the erupting fireworks within them.
In the distance, students and professors alike were gasping in awesome wonderment at the fireworks display, wishing each other a happy and prosperous year, and indeed it was going to be a happy and prosperous year for Hermione, because of the boy she was kissing. Hermione's year had started brilliantly and she knew that it would only get better, thanks in part, to two silly Muggle superstitions.
THE END
Disclaimer: (1) Harry Potter, characters, names, and all related indicia are not my invention, but trademarks of J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers -- no profit is gained from the writing of this story. (2) This is a fan fiction and as such names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination that is, those not mentioned in the previous clause and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.