"Checkmate." I said while trying to keep from smiling, "Want another game?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

"I'll take that as a no then."

"You'd be taking it right," she replied, smirking.

I was quiet for about two minutes while Hermione started reading, but three minutes of silence is really too much to ask for, in my opinion.

"So you're just going to read for the rest of the night I suppose?"

"You suppose right." She countered without averting her gaze from the huge book in her lap.

"And you'll be ignoring me."

"Wow Ron, three for three! Must be a new record for you!" she exclaimed in a mock-excited voice.

"Very amusing, Hermione," I said, smiling again.

"I know," she said, smiling smugly.

"You know everything."

"I know," she said simply, and then went back to reading the very Hermione-like book.

I felt a bit like carrying on the…harmless bantering, but I didn't want to venture into the not-so-harmless bantering, so I resisted the urge. One thing—or one of the things, rather—that Hermione did not like was to be interrupted while she was reading. I had learned that the hard way…a few times. I could risk it when we were at Hogwarts, as there were other people around, and she wouldn't murder me in front of witnesses…I think. But I did know for sure that she was more likely to injure me when we were alone, which we were more often since we moved in together after 7th year ended.

At first, Harry, Hermione, and I had planned on moving into a flat together when we were finished with school, so we found an affordable flat in muggle London. But then, three weeks before we were supposed to move in, Harry announced that he was moving in with my sister. He abandoned me for Ginny. Of course, I could see why she would have an appeal that I don't…but all the same, we already had the flat.

This situation had me down until I grasped the concept that no-Harry meant alone-with-Hermione. Sometime between the middle of sixth year and the end of seventh, I had found out that alone-with-Hermione was a very good thing, if she wasn't mad at me.

And since we were going to be spending so much time together, I decided that it would be the perfect time to find out everything there is to know about Hermione. So, after we moved in together I began my investigation—or what Hermione called pestering. I found out that she can't cook, she's rather sloppy, she likes peppermint but not spearmint, and a number of other things. Including that if you pester Hermione, she'll lock herself in her bedroom for three hours. I was surprised that I didn't already know these things about her and wanted to know more, but after four days of my investigation, I closed it. My conclusion: Don't investigate Hermione if you want to see your next birthday.

Presently, I took advantage of her interest in the humongous book to examine her features. Yeah, I know, extremely sappy, but hey, she intrigues me. I've been out with girls my brothers have set me up with, you know. But none of them ever looked like Hermione. They were usually blonde and airheads. George told me this was because only an idiot would go out with me. But they weren't much fun, and I figured that even if they were the only dates I could get, I'd rather throw a birthday party for Draco Malfoy than have to sit through an entire dinner with them. Hermione was so incredibly different from them. She actually had an opinion of her own, unlike so many of the blondes. Hell, most of them probably didn't even know what the word opinion means. I know I'm not a genius, but I'm not a complete idiot either.

Then there is the fact that Hermione, however you slice it, is gorgeous. When she's dressed up, she's gorgeous. When she's got ink stains all over her from working late, she's gorgeous. And when she's wearing sweats and an overly large jumper, she's gorgeous, which happened to be exactly how she looked now.

The time she really looks good, like she-looks-so-good-it-makes-me-ache-for-her good, is when she's just had a shower and her hair is curly and her skin is flushed and she looks relaxed. That's when I have to watch my step.

And then I realized that Hermione had looked up at me from her headstone-sized book and was now tilting her head to one side as if she were studying me.

"What?" I asked her, defensively.

"Well, you've been quiet for nearly five minutes now and I thought something must be wrong." She answered, smiling, and then asked, "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about you." I told her honestly.

"I figured," she said smirking. "Your eyes always glaze over when you think about me."

"You're so hilarious tonight," I said sarcastically, though I really was amused.

She shook her head and directed her gaze back to the gigantic book in her lap.

"Hermione?" I said quickly, feeling as though I might slip into oblivion if I didn't hold her attention.

She looked back at me curiously.

"How can you even think of reading right now?" I asked.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you're supposed to be doing something with me," I said as if it were obvious.

"What am I supposed to be doing?" she asked me, sounding confused.

"I dunno. Anything that involves me." I said, smiling my sweetest smile at her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled and said, "Ronald Weasley, you are the neediest person I have ever met."

"Well then, we fit together perfectly, because you are the most giving person that I have ever met."

She laughed and then replied, "Oh, I see. You need and I give."

"That's how I like to keep things."

She rolled her eyes again.

"But," I started in the most sincere voice I could muster, "if you ever need anything, I'll make sure you get it."

Hermione looked at me and then said in a very quiet voice, "I know that."

"Well then, as long as you know that, could you get me something to eat? I need nourishment."

She sighed in a mock-irritated way and closed her book, which is exactly what I wanted her to do. She slid out of her chair and held out her hand, which I took, and she led me towards the kitchen. "Come on baby, we'll get you some nourishment."

My mind instantly began to reel as her words hit me. What did she mean by calling me baby? Was it because I was acting like a child or was it—something else? And bloody hell, we'll get you some nourishment? Was she trying to kill me?

But then I saw the way she was looking at me and I knew what she was playing at.

"Hermione!" I said in a false-shocked voice, "Did you just make an innuendo?"

"Maybe."

"Very good," I said, proudly.

"Thank you."

Hermione walked over to the bread drawer and looked at me questioningly.

"Do you want some toast?"

"Yeah," I said smiling. "Only not so crispy this time."

"As you wish, your royal highness." She said as she gave me an exaggerated bow.

She then went to try her hand at the toasty-thing while humming Weasley is Our King. And that was the moment I realized it. I realized why my brothers' attempts at setting me up never seemed to work: It was because I was already with the person I was meant to be with.

And she was standing in my kitchen at this very moment, trying to put out a flaming piece of toast.