A/n: It's here, guys. Oh, man, I've been waiting for this chapter since chapter 1 of Summer of the War. It's quite hard to get everything right and in place, but I hope I've done a good job and you all will like it. Thanks for being so loyal to my fics all this time, even when it takes me forever to update (like this time). I'll always tell you guys that it means the world. =D

This chapter is dedicated to you.

Disclaimer: No. It's not mine. If Ron Weasley were my property, every living thing on this Earth would know. However, these lovely scenes are all mine. Puaha.

NSH

Chapter 10: Everything

I'm breathing in your skin tonight

Quiet is my loudest cry

Wouldn't wanna wake the eyes that make me melt inside

And if it's healthier to leave you be

May a sickness come and set me free

Kill me while I still believe that you were meant for me

--Yellowcard, "Rough Draft"

There it was, her name in that silly boy's handwriting. Untidy, too, like the note wasn't very important and could be rushed. Just like him to do the sloppiest work possible.

But still, she opened the envelope, and still she braced herself for what it might say. And still she wished that she was downstairs playing a game of chess with him rather than sitting locked in her room pretending, even to herself, that she was angry with him.

How stupid was it, really? To be alone with her cat, miserable, on Christmas Eve. It wasn't right. She glanced out the window and saw tips of orange and pink filtering through the off-white gray of the sky. Dinnertime would be soon; she'd have to go downstairs anyway. She sighed, watched Crookshanks for a moment, and then sat up to read the letter.

The envelope was actually heavier than she expected it to be, considering there was just a bit of paper in it. She shrugged and opened the envelope. When she reached inside, her hand grazed a cold chain, but she did not bring it out; instead, she took the folded piece of paper out and left the chain inside.

She saw that the note consisted of a short paragraph. There was no doubt it was from Ron.

Hermione,

Damn it. I really don't know what the hell is wrong with you. Okay. First of all...you're a bloody genius, all right? And, being one, you should know things. You do know things, but I guess there's stuff you don't know. Like how you're a lousy liar. Really lousy. You should know that you can't just lie to people like me and Harry. We can tell when you're lying. So, word of advice, don't try it again. Since you decided to lie to me out there yesterday, I was going to keep your Christmas present and not give it to you till you admitted to making that little mistake. But I'm being your friend here. I picked this out a little while ago 'cause it reminded me of first year. You'll see. I've got one like it, too. Hopefully you'll like it more than you seemed to like that stupid perfume.

I know you didn't mean what you said out there. I'll prove it.

Happy Christmas...

--Ron

She sat still, holding the letter in her hand for a while after she'd read it. The words were swimming in her head. She was trying to figure out what lie he'd thought she'd told. He probably thought that the thing about Lennie was a lie.

He's not stupid, you know.

"I liked that perfume," she said out loud. Crookshanks craned his head around, tearing his gaze from the sparrow outside the window, to look at her. She gave her cat a small smile and said, "He thinks I didn't like it." Then she remembered there was something else in the envelope. Her present! She bit her lip and reached into the envelope. The bed shook lightly as Crookshanks jumped onto it and hurried over to see what it was that she was so interested in. Her fingers closed around the chain and she pulled it out, gasping when she saw it.

Dangling from her fingers was a delicate silver necklace. It had only one charm on it, beautiful and small—a feather, lined in silver that matched the chain. It was a simple gift, but it made her smile. She placed the necklace in the palm of her left and touched the feather lightly with her right index finger. It was soft, like a real feather. She looked at the small feather and couldn't help but laugh, still hearing their voices that one day in first year, when their arguments were just learning to blossom.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron was shouting, waving his arms in front of the feather like mad.

"You're saying it wrong," she'd said at him in exasperation. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long." She'd only been trying to help, even though he exasperated her to no end.

"You do it then, if you're so clever," he'd snapped back, scowling at her.

She'd then rolled up her sleeves, pointed her wand at the feather, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!," making the feather levitate with no trouble.

He'd been terribly angry with her...

"And then the git went and insulted me," she said, still smiling, the necklace still in her hand. Crookshanks purred and patted her hand with his paw, trying to see the necklace. She held it out to him and he sniffed it before looking up at her, declaring "Meow," and bounding off the table back to his seat by the window, obviously much more interested in the sparrow.

She quickly put the necklace on, carefully making sure the feather was right side up on the front. Then she said, "Well, I suppose this is your way of saving me from a troll this time, Ron Weasley." That said, she got out of bed and made her way to her closet, deciding to get ready for dinner.

END POV

Indeed, there was no doubt that his mistress was quite the raving lunatic. All she'd done since she'd opened the redheaded boy's letter was talk to him and talk to herself. Crookshanks flicked his tail sideways and ignored her rantings about the boy having saved her from some troll. A complete nutcase, that.

And honestly. Was he the only one who could tell that this boy, Ron, was going to give her more than that necklace for Christmas? He glanced over at her, head tilted sideways as she surveyed the dresses in her closet.

Yes, apparently so. She had no idea.

END POV

Hermione watched her reflection in her handheld mirror with mounting anticipation. Her hair, after a small war involving three hairbrushes (one survived) and two bottles of Sleekeasy's Hair Potion, was a marvel of straight locks, with a slight shimmer (a bonus feature of the new and improved Sleekeasy's). She'd put on a red velvet dress that reached just past her knees; she knew her mother was quite partial to the dress and wanted her daughter to wear something on the formal side for that night.

Not that she knew why she herself was making such a big deal out of the night.

"Now, for the final touches," she said softly, putting the mirror down and reaching for the bottle of the perfume Ron had given her. It really was an unusual perfume, with a marvelous smell that wasn't too impressive at first but on second thought left a nice scent behind. She released a few drops of the faerie tears onto her hand and applied them to her neck and a bit on her arms. Then she put the perfume down, picked the mirror back up, and adjusted the feather necklace so that it stood out against her skin, glimmering.

She smiled at her own reflection. Hopefully, Ron would not be angry with her for ignoring him all day, even after the note. She could never tell, with a temper like his, but she could always hope.

A glance at the mahogany clock above her door told her it was time for her to go downstairs for dinner. Her parents always liked formality during their Christmas dinners; she wasn't quite sure why, but she knew this time it was intensified due to the presence of their guests. She chuckled at how much her mother liked Ron. She positively swooned whenever she was around him. Hermione guessed it had to be in her blood, to have a weakness for the freckles and the lopsided smile. Her mother certainly did. As for her father...well, he spoke very rarely with the boys, but she knew that he liked Harry and thought Ron was a "smashing chess player, really."

Crookshanks slinked around her legs, purring softly. She laughed and said, "I suppose you want to tell me what you think of him, do you?" Crookshanks stopped moving and turned his squashed face upward to look at her. She bent down and scratched a spot behind his ears, then said, "Don't worry. I know you like him as much as you like Pigwidgeon. Which is quite a lot, isn't it?"

Clock's ticking, Hermione...

It was true; she didn't want to keep her parents waiting for dinner. So she gave Crookshanks a pat on the head, had another quick check on her small mirror, and then left the room, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest.

Her trip down the stairs seemed to take a lifetime. Small bursts of memories kept going through her head; little snippets of arguments she and Ron had had, lying under the stars at the Burrow, and for some odd reason, the memory of Moaning Myrtle making fun of her tail in second year. But it all vanished when her living room came into view and she saw Harry and Ron standing together, holding two glasses of apple cider and laughing heartily.

She noticed Harry was a little pale, and it was all too obvious that he hadn't even glanced at his hair all day, but he looked fine nevertheless. Ron looked pinker than usual, and Hermione couldn't help but smile when she saw that he was wearing his Gryffindor tie. Harry had probably had the sense to ask her father to borrow a tie. But they both looked quite handsome, and so she decided not to tease Ron about it.

"Hermione!"

Harry noticed she had joined them first, and he smiled; she could tell he was relieved that she'd finally come out, and he seemed even more relieved when she exchanged smiles with both him and Ron.

"What made you decide to come out of your room?" Harry said, with a bit of an accusatory tone in his voice.

Hermione took a deep breath and said, "Well...a couple of things."

Ron locked eyes with her for a moment; she saw his gaze flicker to the necklace, and then he smiled. "Yeah, your mum's cooking smells as good as the house elves'."

"Yes, but she doesn't do it out of slave labor," Hermione replied somewhat coolly.

Harry glanced between them nervously and then grinned. "Hey! Well...er..." He faltered, the grin slipping off his face. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his attempts to prevent another argument between his two friends.

"It's all right, Harry, really. Did mum say when we're eating?"

Harry took a sip of his apple cider and then held it out to her. "She just shooed us out of the kitchen and said this could serve us just fine for an hour."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "An hour?"

Ron nodded. "That's what I said. Outrageous, isn't it?"
Harry shrugged. "Well, the point is, we get fed, right?" He looked at Hermione expectantly.

She laughed. "Of course, stupid, it's Christmas Eve."

"That's a relief...new necklace?" He seemed vaguely interested, but it still felt like he was trying to keep the animosity between her and Ron at a Very Low.

"Yes. Actually..." She glanced at Ron and smiled. "It's Ron's Christmas present for me."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron. His ears began to turn red, and Hermione's stomach did the churn she was so accustomed to. Ron cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, because of first year and levitation and the feather and all."

"Yeah, I figured that myself, Ron," Harry said, amused. "It's—"

But he stopped speaking when a flash of flame erupted in front of him. A second later, a single red-and-gold feather was floating down softly, a note attached to the stem, with no trace of the flames left. The three stared at it for a few seconds, and then Harry said what was on all their minds.

"It's the Order."

He put his glass of apple cider on the table by stairs and then bent down to pick up the feather; Hermione noticed his hands were trembling slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron put his apple cider down as well and then place a hand in his pocket, and she guessed he must have his wand stored in there. She turned her attention back to Harry, who was now reading the note. His eyebrows were furrowed, but he didn't look tense, so she relaxed a bit.

When she saw his eyes stop moving across the paper, she said, "What—what is it?"

Harry looked up and she saw that he looked confused. "It says that they're coming."

"Here?" said Ron incredously. Harry nodded and looked back down at the note.

"I dunno why, though."

"You don't think—there's no way Dumbledore could know that you saw something, is there?" Ron said, referring to Harry's vision of the Death Eaters planning an attack.

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "No," he said resolutely. "It can't be that."

At that same moment, they heard a scuffle at the door. There was a sound that sounded like a hand slapping something, and then a muffled, "Ow!"

"Oh, I bet that's them," said Hermione, wringing her hands together. "I better tell my parents before they—"

The door to Hermione's house burst open and in toppled Fred, George, and Tonks. They laughed as they stayed on the floor while Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, and Arthur Weasley stepped through the door.

At once, Harry's eyes lit up. He hurried over to Lupin and shook his hand firmly; the older man seemed very pleased to see him. Ron was greeting his father, obviously surprised that he was there. Hermione used this time to watch Fred, George, and Tonks untangle themselves from each other and get up off the floor.

"Settle down, settle down," Moody growled, waving a gnarled hand around. "You'll attract attention."

"Oh, we will, won't we, Mad-Eye?" George said, putting an arm across Moody's shoulder. "I'm sure Hermione's parents will find us absolutely terrifying."

"Sod off, you," Moody said, shrugging George's arm off. Still, Hermione thought the old Auror looked almost gleeful, like this was some sort of exciting expedition.

Fred, with a similar aura, was waltzing over to Ron and Hermione, an eyebrow raised. "So..." he said, in a would-be casual tone. "How's the betrothed?" He looked at Hermione and sniggered.

"Betrothed?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "What's that supposed to me—"

"Hermione, is everything all right in there?" her mother interrupted, calling from the kitchen.

Glancing at the wizards, Hermione laughed weakly. "Um, just peachy, Mum, it's some friends of ours."

"Wrong thing to say, she's gonna come out here," Ron hissed.

Sure enough, Mrs. Granger poked her head into the living room, and it was all too obvious that she was trying very hard not to faint when she saw the congregation. Before she could, Mr. Weasley made his way forward and said, "Good evening, Mrs. Granger, happy Christmas! We, er, we're here to give Harry his present." He beamed at the Muggle woman, who was still glancing apprehensively at Moody and Mundungus (who seemed to reek more than he usually did).

"It's all right, Mum, really. We know them all quite well," Hermione said, hoping her mother would accept that and be done with it.

Mrs. Granger nodded weakly and said, "Yes, yes, all right dear...just know we can't have anyone else over for dinner..."

"Ooh, you're cooking? Perhaps using eckeltricity? Wouldn't mind if I took a peek would you?" Mr. Weasley said eagerly, stepping forward a bit more. Mrs. Granger seemed at a loss for words.

"Dad," Ron said, tugging at his sleeve.

"What, what is it, Ron? Oh—oh, yes, of course." Mr. Weasley turned back to Mrs. Granger and said, "I beg your pardon, dear woman, do carry on." Hermione nodded rapidly at her mother, who finally decided to retreat back to the safety of her kitchen.

"What are you all really doing here?" Harry said, looking around at the odd group.

"Just what Arthur said, boy, we're bringing you a present," Moody said.

"Courtesy of everyone in the Order," Tonks added, winking at him.

"We would have been here sooner," Mrs. Figg proclaimed, "But this dolt here"—she hit Mundungus on the back of the head—"got carried away chatting with a little friend of his." She glared at him menacingly, and Mundungus flinched slightly.

"Can't say it was m'fault, Figgy, I—"

"Don't call me that!"

Moody rolled both eyes and stepped between the two. "All right, break it up, break it up, we should do this nice and quick."

"Yeah, we don't wanna let Mum's cooking get cold," Fred added, clapping Mundungus on the back. Mrs. Figg scowled at them both.

"Well, Harry," Lupin said, giving Harry a small smile. "We thought it would be nice to give you a gift, and this one seemed to be the perfect one."

"Couldn't have done it without Dung, really," Mr. Weasley said, glancing at Mundungus gratefully.

"Ah, it was nothing,' Arthur, it's for 'Arry's sake," Mundungus said. He gave Harry a wobbly bow and motioned for Lupin to continue.

"I suppose we can get on with it..." Lupin put a hand inside his pocket and retrieved a small, dark blue box made of velvet. He looked at it somewhat sadly, Hermione thought, before holding it out to Harry and saying, "Look inside."

Harry took the box from him and opened it. Sitting neatly in the middle of the soft navy cloth was what looked like a toy motorbike. He cautiously took it out with two fingers and then said, "Er...it's...nice."

The members of the Order laughed lightly. "There's more, Harry," Lupin said. Harry took this as a sign that he should look inside the box more closely, but Lupin chuckled and shook his head. "Hand it over to me for a moment, the motorbike." Harry did as he was told. Lupin took out his wand and set the minute motorbike on the floor. "Everyone stand back, please." They all formed a circle around the tiny object; Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at it curiously with bated breath.

Lupin pointed his wand at the motorbike and said, "Usus Engorgio!" Light shot out of the end of his wand, and when it hit the motorbike, it became bright, white light that made them all throw up their arms to shield their eyes. Hermione felt wind in her hair and heard some indistinct whistle noises coming from the motorbike. When the light faded, they all put their arms down and gasped at what they saw.

What had been a tiny motorbike was now a tremendous, life size bike, glittering before them. Hermione looked at Harry; his eyes were wide as dinner plates, and she thought she saw them water. When he looked up at Lupin, she found out why.

In a shaky voice, Lupin said, "Sirius's motorbike."

Harry held his hand out and his fingers grazed one of the handlebars. He bit his lip and then looked back at Lupin, who made his way around the bike to give Harry a hug. Both held the embrace for a minute, and it seemed to Hermione that if either let go too soon, they'd both break down. But when Harry finally released Lupin, he was smiling, and so was their former Professor.

"But—how?" Harry asked, still looking at the bike with incredulity.

Lupin looked at Mundungus and grinned. "Tell him, Dung."

Mundungus took a look at Mrs. Figg, who was tapping her fluffy-slippered foot, but smiling at Harry. Then he said, "Well...I had Kingsley's help too, and all, and we smuggled it out of the Ministry right under ol' Fudge's nose. But that son of a bludger wouldn't notice anythin' was missing even if the crooks told him themselves. Not that we did, mind you." He smiled at Harry and clapped a hand on Mr. Weasley's shoulder. "It was all Arthur's and Remus's idea."

Harry laughed and said, "I dunno what to say. Thanks...all of you."

The Order beamed. Fred and George hugged each other, and Fred said, "Can you feel the love, George? Can you feel it?"

"Oh," said George. "I feel it."

Lupin smiled at the twins and then turned back to Harry. "There are a few things you should know about it." He pointed to a gold button on the dashboard and said, "This is the invisibility booster. You can make it invisible whenever you want, and it's in perfect working order. So you won't have to try to put your Invisibility Cloak over it to leave it unseen." Harry grinned and nodded. Then Lupin said, "The charm I used to get it to this, its regular size, is 'Usus Engorgio!' To get it back to its small size, you must say, 'Diminuto!' This way, you can keep it in the little box whenever you're not using it, and no one's the wiser."

"Wicked," said Ron, looking at the motorbike in awe. "Harry, will I have a go on it?"

"Hey, Harry, you should bring it over tomorrow! Then we can all have a go on it!" George exclaimed and everyone laughed. Harry nodded and said, "Sure, no problem."

"Well then," said Mr. Weasley, beaming once more. "I suppose we will see you three tomorrow."

Everyone went around, saying their good-byes. Ron was particularly giggly after saying farewell to Dung, having obviously heard one of his famous stories. Harry and Lupin talked quietly for a moment before Moody ushered all the Order members together.

"We're Disapparating, see?" he said, his magical eye rolling back to make sure the twins weren't being too overeager.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded and waved to everyone. "Wotcher, kiddos!" Tonks said, waving back. And then, with one loud pop!, they were all gone. The trio grinned at each other and then looked at the magnificent motorbike.

"Go on then, Harry, try the charm," Ron said. Hermione nodded, eager to see that this extraordinary magical object really was the tiny bike they'd seen before. Harry, grinning, took his wand from his pocket, pointed it at the bike, and said, "Diminuto!" This time, light shot out from the bike to Harry's wand, and then turned into brilliant white light. They shielded their eyes for a few moments, and when they looked back, they saw that the bike was once again, seemingly, a toy motorbike.

Harry bent down to pick it up and then held it in his hand.

"That's got to be one of the best Christmas presents anyone can get!" said Ron.

Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's wonderful, Harry."

He nodded, still looking at the motorbike. "Yes...it is."

END POV

The night was so still Ron could feel the silence pulsating against his skin. Or maybe it was the magnified sound of his heartbeat. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like he'd done on so many nights, except this night, he knew that he would, at one point or another, get up and get it over with. There was no doubt in his mind that he would do it.

This is it.

It truly was "it," although he wasn't entirely sure what "it" meant. He thought it might refer to him telling Hermione, but he had a vague feeling that it also had to do with how he could finally prove to himself that he was brave. Or that this was a really big step up from being friends with Hermione. "It" could change everything as he knew it.

He grabbed the feather on his necklace, one identical to the one he'd given Hermione. He could do this. It was important, and she meant the world to him, didn't he?

And come on, Weasley...it's easier confronting her than telling Harry!

His stomach lurched. Supposing something did happen...how would they tell Harry? He shook his head to clear his mind and sat up. Better sooner than later. Or was the term "better late than never"? He never was much good at remembering his dad's Muggle sayings...

Weasley!!

All right, he was going. Yes. His feet touched the cold marble floor and he flinched slightly. It was still a bit incredible that he was about to do it, but he was determined to do it, and this was not the time to back down. He stood up, put on his bathrobe, and, with a quick glance at a soundly sleeping Harry, he left his room and headed for Hermione's.

What time was it, anyway? He checked a small clock sitting atop the hallway table and was startled to see it was 1:30 in the morning. He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep walking. His hand was still closed tightly around the feather.

And then, all of a sudden, there was the door to her room, closed, shut. He could hear his breathing, a deafening noise; when had it become quite so loud?! He stood in front of the door for a few minutes, debating on how to wake her. He could knock, or he could shake her awake. A smile tugged at his lips; he wanted to surprise her, so he opted for the latter. His hand touched the doorknob and he felt his heart beat even faster. And before he even knew what he was doing, his hand had turned the doorknob and the door was open.

There was a small sliver of moonlight coming in through the window. It left a line of light on the floor. Halfway along that line, Ron spotted a paper envelope that said, "Hermione." He couldn't help but smile. That little note had been the very first step in all of this. And if you don't go through with this, it will have been a waste of time. That was true. Ron let out a slow breath and then looked at the sleeping figure on the bed. He shouldn't waste any more time or it would be dawn before he told her.

He made his way over to the bed. Aware that the palms of his hands were quite sweaty, he raised one and laid it on her shoulder. Then he shook her gently and said, very softly, "Hermione."

Her eyes opened sooner than he'd expected, and he felt his breath get knocked out. He took his hand off her shoulder and took a deep breath before whispering, "Hi."

"Ron?" she said groggily, sitting up and patting her hair down. It was still straight, but some locks were returning to their usual bushy-curls state.

He gave her a weak smile and he said, "Yeah, hi."

"What time is it?" She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands and then looked at him again, as if she was still processing his presence there.

"Uh it's 1...er, 1:30." No time to waste. He looked down at his hands and then back up at her, bracing himself. "Hermione, can you come with me?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Come where?"

"Outside." More nervous swallowing, why were his palms so wet?

"Outside?" He nodded. "At this hour?" Nod again. She laughed softly and said, "All right, if that's what you want...may I ask why?"

"Er, not yet, I'll tell you but...not yet." He stood up and started walking towards the door, afraid that if he stayed crouched by her too long he'd say things the wrong way. And nothing could go wrong here.

He heard her getting up behind him. Glancing back, he saw that she was wearing the Chudley Cannon pajamas he'd given her for her birthday that September. A grin broke out on his nervous face; he thought she'd hated those pajamas and had thought of them as his "sorry attempt at converting me into a Cannon supporter."

"I see you liked those after all," he said, still grinning.

She rolled her eyes playfully as she pulled on her bathrobe and said, "Don't think too much of it, you. And this better be good..."

The grin slowly left his face. "Yes, let's hope so."

"Come again?"

"Nothing. Come on." With a last glance at her, he led her out of the room.

They were silent for a few seconds. Then she said, "Aren't we going outside?"
"Yeah. That's where I'm heading, isn't it?"
"Yes, but...you're not wearing any shoes, Ron."

He stopped and looked down at his feet. They were bare. "Dammit," he muttered. This was certainly not the right time to be barefoot. "Er..."

"Look, Dad always leaves a pair of shoes by the door. Just wear those if it's too much trouble to go back to your room and get your own," she said, trying to read the expression on his face.

He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and nodded. Then he kept walking, hoping that she was in a good mood.

Sooner than he thought, they were at the front door. Without speaking to her, he put on her father's shoes and then opened the door. She stepped out first, shivering slightly as the cold air hit her face. He followed, seeing his breath turn into vapor before his eyes. Hermione turned to look at him expectantly.

"Er..." Unfortunately, his brain and mouth didn't seem to be working together. He pointed lamely towards the tree and managed to get out a strangled, "Over there."

She raised her eyebrows and said, "Ron, will this take long? Because I don't want to get sick again."

"It'll take longer if we keep talking." Bad tone.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Fine." Then she trudged off toward the tree, Ron following and muttering swear words under his breath. When they were standing under the bare branches of the trees, Ron looked around. He'd seen this happening, he knew what he was going to say and everything, but still it looked so strange and unfamiliar, and he felt completely lost.

"Moon's full, isn't it?" he said, not turning around to look at it. Hermione nodded and said nothing else. She had one hand on her waist, the other hanging at her side, and she was watching him, waiting for him to speak.

He took a deep breath and felt his lungs turn to ice and his heart beating like mad. He'd waited so long to do it, but now that he was about to do it, he felt that maybe waiting a little longer wouldn't hurt...

No. Look at her. No.

She looked cold and she kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She could tell he was nervous and he knew it must have been making her nervous too. Her hand left her hip and went to the new necklace she wore, identical to his. The crunch of snow under her feet and the sound of his heart and the thoughts in his mind deafened him, but when he saw her holding the feather, he let it all go and said, "I—I'm not sure why I decided to do this now, but, um, it just...instinct, you know?"

Hermione was starting to look worried. She nodded, and said, "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No, not really. Well. Yes. I mean...you know, I told you that you should know stuff, 'cause you're so smart. And I said there's stuff that you don't know. Yeah, well, it's kind of my fault that you don't know some of that stuff."

She laughed feebly. "Ron, what are you trying to say?"

He felt his eyes widen. He ran a hand through his hair and readied himself. "It's just that...you, you've taught me so much, and I know things because you made sure to teach them to me. I'm not sure what kind of person I'd be without you around but, er, you kind of show me things that I would never see on my own. Don't you see?" He took another shaky breath. "You're...the person who tells me I have dirt on my nose, or when I need to do what's right, or when I need to accept things. And you're just this amazing person that I try so hard to understand and I still can't but I want to, I really do, 'cause I would do anything to learn everything about you and know what makes you happy and know when I shouldn't push your buttons and know when I'm making you sad and all of that. But even if I never get to learn all that stuff about you, I'm just happy knowing you, because you're"—oh, checkmate, already?—"...you're the...the only person I've ever liked this much and you're just...everything! See?"

And he was done talking and there was the silence, exploding all over the place...what if she was saying something and he'd never hear it because of this awful silence? But no, she wasn't...she was just standing there, one hand on the necklace and the other at her side, and she was just gazing at him. It seemed like she might have stopped breathing. Or maybe he was the one who had stopped. He couldn't feel anything except the numbing, somewhat comforting, beat of his heart. Somehow, he was still looking at her in the eyes, even after that mouthful, and neither of them had looked away.

The first thing she did was stop holding the necklace. He was about to start berating himself about what a bad omen that must be when she took one step towards him. No, his imagination must be running wild.

It did that a lot...like when he thought of the Yule Ball, and instead of remembering what had really happened, he would see himself dancing with her and they were smiling and—

—and now she was opening her mouth to say something! His brain froze, his heart practically stop, his breath caught in his frozen lungs as he focused on what she was saying.

There was a small smile on her face. "I see," she said.

And then his breath was free in his no-longer frozen lungs, and his blood was coursing through his body, and he let his imagination run wild, because Hermione had just put her hands on his shoulders and then pressed her lips against his. He was sure that this time it wasn't a dream, or a memory from the scars, or any work of imagination. It was really real, she was actually pressing her mouth against his, and he was just holding her lightly.

They were at the Yule Ball. There were couples dancing all around them, lights bouncing off the lights, fairies playing in people's hair. But they were standing together, kissing—bloody hell, he was kissing Hermione! She had her hands on his shoulders, gripping them tight, like if she let go she would fall. He would certainly fall if she let go of him, but he wasn't worried, because this moment would last as long as it needed to, and then...what then?

He didn't realize his eyes had been closed until they opened, when his lips were no longer on hers. She still had her hands on his shoulders and she was looking up at him, an expression of disbelief on her face. He was sure he'd stopped breathing now, but a moment later it didn't matter, because she'd grinned and put her arms around him, hugging him close to her. He hugged her back, chuckling in her ear and holding her tighter than he'd ever held her.

He could never remember what went through his mind at that moment; the only thing he could remember was that it kicked ass and, just standing there with her in his arms, he knew he'd never regret telling her.

Hmm...he'd have to thank that sparrow.

After what felt like a century, she released him and looked at him again, smiling. He gave her a lopsided grin, feeling his ears reddening, and saw that her cheeks were pink too. He really doubted it was from the cold.

"Let's go back inside," he said, and took her hand in his. They walked back to the front door, and before going inside the house, they turned to look at the moon.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione said, and when he turned to look at her, he saw her eyes were sparkling.

He nodded. "Yeah. I've never seen it so bright."

Once inside (after making sure Mr. Granger's shoes were right where he'd left them), he walked with her back to her room. All too soon, he thought, though for a different reason this time, he saw her bedroom door before him. She opened it slightly and was about to go in but then she turned and smiled at him.

He returned the grin and hugged her once more. It felt so good to just hug her and know he didn't have to worry about how long he held her, about giving anything away, because, Merlin's beard, she knew! She laid her head against his chest and he knew he must be blowing her eardrums out with his crazy heartbeat but at the same time he knew she didn't mind.

When she pulled away, she looked up at him and said, "Just so you know...I like you very much too, Ron."

He laughed. "I was hoping that was the case."

"Yes, well..." she said softly, still smiling. "Good night."

He nodded. "Good night." Then he bent down and kissed her again, short and soft. Then she went into her room, smiled at him one last time, and closed the door.

At that moment, Ron forgot that it had been such a long way to get to where he was, standing in front of her door after having shared his first kiss with her. It really had been a hell of a journey, one that had pissed him off on countless occasions. But even though he'd gotten discouraged, he'd made it, hadn't he?

Right you are, Weasley.

He smiled to himself. "Checkmate," he murmured, and then went off to return to his own bedroom.

A/n: Alas...review!