A/n: I dunno what to say...thanks. I know I've said that a lot but, hey, I mean it. I'm wondering if people have given up on this fic...? Well, whatever, as long as someone is still reading, I'll keep writing. I think after this there will only be two more chapters, but I'm not quite sure. Anyway...won't this chapter be fun? )

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't.

NSH

Chapter 11: Christmas

He didn't think he should sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw something, some silhouette, except he couldn't tell who it was. The shadow beckoned, brought him closer so he would see who it was. But he didn't want to see. It might change things.

Blinking took a lot of energy, he was so tired. But he blinked nonetheless and glanced at the nightstand next to his bed. There sat the velvet box, harmless, lit softly by the sliver of moonlight coming in through the shades on the window. Harry felt his lip tremble and looked away.

He understood why they'd given it to him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it and like it; of course he did. But the fact that it had belonged to Sirius...that was not something he could put out of his mind. Every single time he ever picked up the motorbike, he would be constantly stabbed by the memory of Sirius and the fact that, even though he didn't want to believe it, he was dead.

It had to be true. If he was alive, why wasn't he coming? Why didn't he just crawl back out from behind the dark veil and let everyone know that, no, Sirius Black could not be beaten, would not be beaten? He had fought too much to find Harry again, to be able to have the company of his best friend Remus again...he wouldn't let it go by just giving up and sitting there behind some archway. If he weren't dead, he would have emerged and laughed about how gullible they were. "You gits, I can't believe you fell for that prank! It's the oldest trick in the book!" And they would all laugh and embrace and conjure up a round of butterbeers. They would forget it had ever happened and just appreciate he was there.

Why wasn't he there?

Harry closed his eyes. The silhouette was gone, no shadow that beckoned. There was just the perpetual darkness of closed lids. Lying there, his eyes shut tight, Harry hoped Sirius had kept his eyes open after he fell. It would be an absolute nightmare to have to be dead, with no control of your eyes, and have to drown in the darkness knowing there could be light out there. If he had his eyes open, at least he would gaze unseeingly upon whatever surrounded him. Even if he couldn't see it, better he be surrounded by light than by darkness.

When Harry opened his eyes, he felt a cold touch on his cheek. He gritted his teeth as he wiped the tear away. He hated crying. It just reminded him how dead Sirius was. Alas, didn't everything plague him that way? Crying just showed him that he could still choose to display his emotions, to release an inner depression before it ate away at all his memories and thoughts. Crying was a human thing; every living human cried. It was life leaking out because it knew there was more life left inside a person. That's why he hated crying.

But he never stopped himself from doing it.

Sleep took him. He preferred to sleep than to keep crying. Perhaps this slumber wouldn't be plagued by any twisted scenes. Perhaps...

But no.

He was sitting on the dais on which stood the archway. His legs hung limply over the edge of the dais, his back to the veil. He had the motorbike held tightly in his hand. His head was down. Was he dead?

How he wished he was.

No, he was still outside the veil. Within reach, but outside nonetheless.

He stirred. There was no use waiting for life to drain out of him. With an effort that was too terrible to bear, he threw the motorbike as far as it could go. It stayed in his view. His throw was too weak.

He turned his head and screamed. He tried to use all the air in his lungs—was he dead yet?—but he kept screaming and he kept living. Behind him stood Voldemort. True, not the subtlest of appearances in his dreams. But he was there, no doubt. And he was making Harry scream.

It was Crucio, he knew it, he could feel his bones snapping but staying intact. Voldemort was laughing. Harry was still screaming. Air still flowed in his lungs.

He kept screaming.

And then everything was silent. He didn't feel anything anymore, except a hollow hole inside his whole body. He couldn't see anything either. Oh, but now it was registering. His eyes were closed. He tried to open them but couldn't. When he was about to try to scream again, his eyes opened. The hollow feeling remained.

He had no heartbeat.

Surveying his surroundings, he found a bare room with a high backed chair in the center. He didn't feel unnerved by it. Why should he, he lived here. For the time being. Until he took over Hogwarts.

His scar was hurting. But it was a distant, dull pain. He couldn't feel it much. So he ignored it and called someone's name, in a high voice, a name he felt an indistinct hate for. "Bella." A hiss, more like, not a voice.

A dark figure entered the room. She stepped up to him, keeping her head down as she slowly lowered her hood. She had heavy lidded eyes with dark, ugly bags under them. Her face was pale, like if she'd been indoors or hiding behind a mask for many months.

His heart ached at the sight of her. But he still had no heartbeat.

"Six days, master, that's all we need. Preparations are being completed."

He hated her voice, but he was delighted by what she said. He had no will...

"Good," he hissed. "Although, it is still not soon enough."

"Master," she said, desperation dropping into her voice. "My Lord, we tried, but there are many things to be careful about and--"

"Enough. It matters not." More hissing coming from his mouth, a sound strange to his ears but still so very familiar. Where the hell was his heart? "The death of those M--" He stopped speaking. Fear hit him hard, and he realized that he could distinctly feel his heart beating madly again, and he felt his scar start to prickle with the beginnings of searing pain.

And then he felt himself being released from Voldemort's mind. His head felt like it was being torn open.

His eyes opened wide. Cold sweat was running down the sides of his head. He bit his lip hard so he wouldn't start screaming. It would remind him too much of his dream...

He heard footsteps. Immediately, his hand whipped out and grabbed his wand, which was sitting next to the velvet motorbike box. His sweaty palm gripped the wand handle tightly as he pointed it towards the door, ready for anything. The footsteps approached. Whoever it was would be at the door in a matter of seconds...

It was Ron. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, but his arm seemed frozen in the position it was in, extended and holding his wand with all his mind. Ron looked dazed. He didn't seem to register that his best friend was aiming his wand at him. When he finally did come to his senses, though, he gave Harry an odd look.

"Harry, mate...you all right?"

Lower your arm, it's all right. He let his arm fall, feeling the muscles loosen painfully. He looked back up at Ron and nodded weakly. "Yeah...yeah." Now he remembered seeing Ron get up out of bed. How long before had that been? He really had no idea. He had been trying to go to sleep, and when he saw Ron get up, he'd thought he was going to the bathroom; he just forgot he'd ever left when he started seeing the silhouette.

"You're sweating," Ron pointed out. His cheeks were flushed, his ears bright red. Harry didn't feel like asking what he had been up to, though. He was tired.

"Er...yeah." Harry wiped some of the sweat off his forehead. "Too many blankets, I reckon."

"Too many blankets." Ron was skeptical. It was pissing him off.

"Yes, Ron." He threw the sheets off his body for emphasis. "They're smothering me."

"I see," Ron replied. He seemed lost in thought—Harry didn't even want to know what about. Without another word, Harry put his wand back on his nightstand and lay back down, turning on his side with his back to Ron.

There was a moment of silence. Then Ron said, "You're sure you're okay?"
Harry nodded. "Fine," he said. There were tears on his face. His steady heartbeat boomed in his ears. "Fine."

END POV

Hermione awoke to the heavy scent of cat hair. The weight on her head told her that Crookshanks had climbed precariously onto her head some time the previous night, after she'd come back to bed. His tail was now swishing back and forth, tickling her nose a bit. She gently reached up and pushed him off her head. He gave an indignant purr and then bounced onto the bed, stretching lazily.

So this was the morning after. She'd always hear people use that term when speaking about...

She giggled.

Crookshanks turned his head towards her and hissed lightly. She knew he was associating the sound with Lavender and Parvati, and he'd never had much liking for them. She patted his head and laughed, since it was quite the rarity for her to resemble her House roommates.

Oh, but the occasion certainly called for it.

She suddenly jumped out of bed, startling Crookshanks. Laughing once more, she hurried to pick out nice but not overly elegant clothes for the day, and then made her way to the shower. The morning, despite being cold and cloudy, seemed very enjoyable to her, but she certainly had an inkling as to why that was...

When she was fully dressed (and after several attempts to make her hair behave like—well—hair, only succeeding in achieving a bushy-yet-sleek look that she wasn't very pleased with), she put her wand in her pocket and left her room, with the intention of waking the boys with cheery Christmas wishes.

As she neared their door, she heard Ron talking loudly about what his mum must be cooking up for them at the Burrow, and she blushed. How ludicrous, too, of her to try to tell herself she wasn't blushing. There was no need for that anymore. With that thought, and a smile on her face, she knocked on the door to their bedroom.

"...bet Fred and George have hidden all the Chocolate Frogs from me, those pra—" Ron stopped speaking when he heard the knock.

"Who is it?" came Harry's voice.

Failing to come up with some witty answer (it was much harder than the twins made it look), Hermione said, "It's me."

"Smee?" Ron said, feigning confused.

"No, Hook." Harry laughed at her answer; she knew Ron would be completely lost on the joke. Sure enough...

"What the hell?"

"Just come in, Hermione," Harry instructed. Biting her lip nervously, she opened the door. Ron was sitting on his bed, pulling his trainers on. His hair was terribly disheveled, but, as always, compared to Harry, he looked perfectly groomed. When he looked up at her, his cheeks reddened slightly behind his freckles. Nevertheless, he flashed her a lopsided smile, and she couldn't help returning it.

Remembering that Harry was in the room, she turned to see him leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face. She was about to say something concerning the smirk when he said, "What, no 'Happy Christmas'?"

Hermione shook her head, laughing, and said, "Fine, yes...Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Are we exchanging gifts at the Burrow?" Ron asked.

"Er, yeah, I suppose."

"When are we leaving, then?" Harry looked quite eager to leave. He was wearing his usual green Weasley sweater and a small smile, which Hermione knew was due to the fact that he would be able to see Ginny again.

"I dunno."

"Oh, honestly, Ron, you didn't even ask your mum about that?" Hermione asked, turning to him. As soon as she did, though, they both broke into grins without hesitation. She had to turn away so Ron wouldn't forget to answer her question; that would look suspicious.

"Er..." Ron was always so clumsy about putting words together... "Well, she just said 'We'll see you on Christmas morning.'"

"This is Christmas morning," Harry helpfully pointed out.

"That's right," Ron answered.

Harry laughed. "Okay, so I guess we'll be going...?"

"Sure. Except..." Ron wagged a finger. "You have to leave because I have to round up the presents, which include yours."

"What about Hermione?"

She, however, had already anticipated what Ron said. "She has her present already, so she is free to take a peek at the presents for the rest of you." Of course, she also thought he might just want to be alone with her for a second. The idea made her stomach do somersaults.

"All right," Harry said, raising his eyebrows. "I'll just be downstairs by the fireplace...Hermione, you want to stay or wait with me?"

"Stay." She almost hit herself for being so hasty about answering, but she smiled at Harry and said, "We'll only take a second."
"Right." The edges of Harry's lips were twitching, and Hermione was trying to decide how to tell him off when he exited the room silently. At this, she turned towards Ron. He was rummaging around inside the trunk at the feet of his bed, where all his belongings still were.

"Ron?"

He stopped moving. She saw his ears redden and bit her lip. It would be absolutely awful if something were wrong...

"You think he knows?" Ron asked, turning his head slightly so she had a profile view of him.

Hermione blinked very quickly. "Well...I've always thought he suspected something might...happen." She gave him a small smile, and he turned around to face her.

"I think everyone did."

She laughed and, without thinking, took a step forward. "Yes...why do you think that is?"
"Surely, you jest. You don't think we were always a bit obvious?"
"Come off it, Ron. I am great at being subtle. You, on the other hand, aren't."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So how come they still thought it was a mutual thing?"
She couldn't find an immediate answer to that that would support the point she was making. But then she decided on a simpler answer. "Because it is a mutual thing."

They were both very close now—she wasn't sure how it had happened, but their faces were inches apart. Ron looked quite solemn, except she knew he was as lighthearted as she was when he said, "Thank Merlin" and then kissed her.

It was almost better than it had been the night before, just because it proved that she could kiss him back all she wanted and nobody would do anything about it. And he didn't mind, either! It made her skin prickle. They pulled apart quite quickly, but only because she knew Harry could be around, and walking in on them was not the right way for him to find out.

Ron grinned. She returned it, but took a step back. "How are we going to tell him?"

"I...haven't thought of that yet."

Hermione nodded. "We could..."

"Explain?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It would be...awkward."

Ron opted for a nod in agreement. "I guess that's true." He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Well...I could just...you know...kiss you in front of him." His cheeks tinged.

She shook her head. "No, I think that would terrify him." Ron laughed. "No, I mean it!"

"I know."

"Yes."

He stood watching her for a few seconds and then he reached for her hand. "We'll figure something out, all right?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"For now...our main concern is my mum's Christmas cooking."

As she laughed, Hermione heard footsteps coming from the corridor behind her. Hastily, she dropped Ron's hand and turned to see Harry coming towards the door. She doubted he would have noticed the hand holding at a distance. Shooting Ron a smile, she waited for Harry to reach the room before asking, "What's wrong?"

"I don't mean to whine," he said, "but can we please go now?"

END POV

"They're hiding in there somewhere," Luna Lovegood said, pointing with her wand at the sprig of mistletoe that sat on the coffee table before her. "They're just very eager to find a couple they can settle above. Naturally, I won't let them, because I'd rather study them than see them force some poor people to kiss."

"Fascinating," Ron muttered. He was sitting next to Hermione on the couch across from Luna. His hand was settled next to hers between them, and occasionally he would run his index fingers over her knuckles. Luna hadn't noticed a thing; she was way too enthralled in her attempt to pry the nargles out of the mistletoe. For this, Hermione was thankful, since she quite wanted to enjoy such gestures without half the wizarding world noticing.

"Luna, I'm pretty sure there are no such things as nargles," Hermione said, in a somewhat kind voice, trying to point out the logic to Luna.

"Oh, don't be silly. They love mistletoe," Luna replied cheerily, watching the mistletoe expectantly. "I think they're a bit upset that I've taken them down." She glanced at something behind Ron and Hermione. "Of course, some others really don't need mistletoe as encouragement, do they?"

Ron groaned. Hermione knew Luna was referring to Harry and Ginny, who had been sitting together in a corner by the kitchen almost immediately after the trio had arrived. Ron had preferred to avert his eyes from the sight at every moment possible. The twins, on the other hand, found it amusing. Hermione chuckled and took a drink from the glass of water that she was holding in her free hand.

"Although, if you two want, I could let the nargles use the mistletoe magic on you," Luna continued nonchalantly, poking her wand through a couple of leaves in the plant.

Hermione choked on her water. She quickly set the glass down, wiped her mouth, and said, "Come again?"

Luna smiled. A glance at Ron told Hermione that he looked quite petrified of the girl. "You know," Luna said, "most people think that I'm not that observant."

"No, I'd say they understand that pretty damn well," Ron replied feebly.

Pretending not to hear him or choosing to ignore him, Luna said, "Well, I am quite observant, and I think you two would much rather be in a situation like Harry and Ginevra than to sit here, talking to me."

Feeling a bit of pity, Hermione shook her head. "Oh, no, no, Luna, we're having a wonderful time."

Luna smiled serenely. "I always thought you were a nice person. A terrible liar, though. But a nice person." She stood up, taking the mistletoe in her hands. "I must go see if watering this might encourage the nargles to emerge..." And with that, she left Ron and Hermione gaping at her retreating back.

Ron tapped Hermione's hand, and she turned her head to look at him. But before he could say whatever it was he was going to say, there was a loud pop and two people. appeared on either side of the couch. Two identical, redheaded, smirking people.

"Why, hello, ickle Ronniekins," the one with the sweater imprinted with a G said.

"And let's not forget the future Mrs. Ronniekins!" the other said gleefully.

Hermione glanced back and forth between the two, as did Ron. "What do you two want?" he said. Hermione dimly noticed that Ron's finger was still on top of her hand.

"Well..." the twins chorused. Then they both whipped out two ridiculous large trapezoidal pieces of glass with a handle that looked like a nose. Hermione didn't get a chance to consider what they might be—the twins both leaned in, putting the instruments to their eyes with the handle facing down, making it seem like they both had very ugly hooked noses.

"It seems to me..." Fred said.

"That a certain freckled finger..." George added.

"Is atop the hand of a genius, and ergo—"

"The genius doesn't mind the freckled finger—"

"Ergo, something lovely this way comes!"

Ron lifted the hand that had been on Hermione's. "Sod off, both of you, before I tell mum that you're terrorizing Hermione."

"A hearty liar," Fred said, nodding.

"But all for the sake of his bonnie lass," George supplied, placing a hand over his heart.

"We'll be around!" they both said, and then Disapparated with a tremendous pop.

Ron and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The twins could have been more scandalous than that. Still...

"That was close," Ron muttered.

Hermione felt a slight pang at how concerned he was with keeping the matter at hand a secret. "Yes, how lucky of us," she replied, a little more bitterly than she had intended.

Ron arched an eyebrow. "You okay?"

She let herself be entranced by her hands in her lap. "Fine." There was a very pregnant pause before she said, "Er, I need to...use the bathroom. I'll be right back." She quickly stood up and started to walk away, but managed to hear Ron said, "All right" faintly.

Crossing her hands over her chest, she walked past Harry and Ginny without a glance and didn't even acknowledge Mrs. Weasley and Luna in the kitchen. She was very happy—absolutely ecstatic, really—about the events that had taken place in the course of 24 hours. She had made up with Ron, he had confessed how he fancied her, and they had already kissed a total of three times. It was more than she could ever have hoped for, as much as she hated the term. But she was sorely uncomfortable with the way Ron was acting about making their—relationship—more open.

When she got to the bathroom, she let herself in and then locked the door behind her. Then she put the lid of the toilet down and sat on it, trying to think. She knew Ron wasn't embarrassed about liking her; he had made that all too clear. He was, as far as she could tell, as overjoyed as she was. But he seemed to be holding back when it came to telling everyone else about how they had...progressed. And, to make matters worse, they all seemed perfectly ready for such news, but he still was very much against coming out with it.

"What am I supposed to do?" she muttered to herself, digging her shoes into the rug.

Still, she couldn't help thinking that she shouldn't care. The main point was, she and Ron were finally together, after the long wait, after the anticipation of what might be there, after the many horrifying thoughts of possible death awaiting. That was what mattered, wasn't it? That they had managed to tell each other everything, after so long?

It shouldn't matter if Ron was a little sheepish about admitting it to his family and best friend. It didn't matter. The important thing was that Ron really wanted to be with her. It was what she should keep in mind.

Hermione smiled, remembering the details of the previous night. She had been absolutely dumbstruck, to find Ron's lips against hers and knowing that it was not her overly wild imagination. She had the feeling that his lips tasted of Sugar Quills, but maybe it was just her memory of one night in the summer, at the Burrow, under the stars...

A knock at the bathroom door interrupted her thoughts. Mrs. Weasley's voice said, "Hermione, dear? Are you all right? You've been in there for a while now..."

She smiled, in spite of the rather stupid situation, and replied, "Yes, I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, thank you. I'll be out in just a second." She stood up and stepped in front of the mirror, to check up on how tame her hair was being. One glance told her that it was almost back to normal, except for some strands near the front. Sighing, she tried to pat it down so it wouldn't get in the way.

"I hate my hair," she said out loud. "Honestly, if only my grandmother had had normal hair..."

"Oh, don't think too much of it, honey," a voice said, startling her so much that she jumped back a few feet. With widened eyes, she looked around, trying to figure out who had spoken.

"Over here," the voice said again, coming directly from in front of her. Suddenly relieved, she smiled and said, "Oh. You."

After spending the past week at her house, she had almost completely forgotten that mirrors in the magical world spoke. The ones at the Leaky Cauldron were particularly talkative. But she hadn't ever heard this one speak...

"Yes, me," the mirror said, sounding amused.

"I don't think much about my hair," Hermione said, going back to the mirror's first comment. "It's just..." Immediately, her thoughts went to Ron, and how she suddenly really wanted to look her best around him...after all, it was always very difficult to forget fourth year and the Yule Ball.

"Oh, I know. But, really, dear, he fell for you just the way you are, now didn't he?"

Hermione had to laugh. "You're a clever mirror, aren't you?"

"That's what the twins tell me."

Smiling, Hermione nodded. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am. That boy has messed with his hair and picked at his freckles every time he's in here when you're around. I notice these things."

"Ron's self conscious about how he looks?" This surprised her; after all, she certainly didn't see anything wrong with him at all. (A/n: Yes, I know, I'm completely and utterly biased).

"No, none of that," the mirror replied. "But, for you, he always tries his best."

Hermione felt her hand prickle, as if the skin on there was remembering how nice it felt to have Ron's hand over hers. She bit her lip, almost tasting Sugar Quills...and she smiled at the mirror, feeling very fortunate to be part of the wizarding world. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Before she left the bathroom, Hermione couldn't help but take one last look at another feature—or lack thereof would be the more appropriate term, in her opinion—of hers that she was particularly picky about. She had never quite filled out in the chest area like all the other girls around her had; again, she had family genes to blame.

The mirror apparently noticed this, because it said, "Yes, well, that is unfortunate, isn't? Why, just look at Ginny, and she's a year younger than you!"

Feeling her cheeks burning, Hermione cleared her throat and said, "All right, I think I've talked to you enough for one day."

"Oh, don't be insulted, love. What you dislike about yourself might just be the reason someone else loves you. I'm getting old, anyway. My vision tends to get a little blurry. Sad, isn't it?"

Hermione kind of felt like she wanted to give the mirror a comforting hug; of course, it was a pretty ridiculous feeling (this from the girl asks her cat questions), but it was there nonetheless. "No," she said. "I think your vision is absolutely wonderful." Two spots of condensation appeared on the mirror. "Thank you."

Smiling, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom.

END POV

Luna was shooting small balls of golden light at the mistletoe, making them fly around the leaves. Ron thought he saw some faint rustling in the leaves, but he didn't tell her this.

Hermione had returned to her seat next to him, and she seemed to have recovered from whatever had been bothering her. Ron had a slight guess as to what that had been; she was probably disappointed that he was too much of a coward to admit to anyone that they had "gotten together." He didn't let himself feel guilty over it, though; he knew he would make it up to her very, very soon.

"Oh, I think they finally want to come out!" Luna said, adding green light balls to the congregation of gold ones.

Choosing to ignore this, Ron turned to look at what Fred and George were up to. They had managed to sneak off to the shed and bring out a Muggle record player, and now they were charming a record to play a couple of Weird Sisters songs. A second later, Ron found out their mischief had been successful, as the amplifier let out a burst of noise—the most popular Weird Sisters song.

Fred and George high-fived each other and then shot a series of fireworks out of the ends of their wands. Immediately, Mrs. Weasley came bursting in from the kitchen, her hand on her hips, a scowl hitched on her face. Ron had no idea what she was shouting to them because the sound coming from the record player was so deafening, but he laughed when his mother smacked both of his brothers upside the head. Hermione and Luna both sniggered along with him. Harry and Ginny seemed too...preoccupied...to care.

Hermione pointed her wand at the record player and said, "Quietus!" The music volume lowered drastically, to the gratitude of everyone's eardrums. Ron let his hand graze Hermione's shoulder and when she turned to look at him, he grinned. Then he leaned close to her and whispered, "You're brilliant" in her ears.

Luna cleared her throat. "Do you two want to see the nargles or not? I'm positive they'll come out in a minute or so."

Ron smiled and shook his head. "No...I think I want to dance."

"What?" Hermione said, obviously taken by surprise. He nodded and said, "What do you say? Are you up for a dance?"

She blinked constantly for a few moments, and then smiled. "All right," she answered softly, nodding. Ron glanced at Luna out of the corner of his eye and saw that, while she was still twirling the colored balls of light around the mistletoe, she was also smiling at the two of them.

Ron stood up and offered his hand to Hermione. She took it, and he led her to a small open space behind the couch they had been sitting at. Almost as if on cue, the song that had been playing ended and was replaced with a slow song, courtesy of the Weird Sisters.

Mrs. Weasley had apparently finished telling the twins off, because with one final finger wag in their faces, she turned to go back into the kitchen. She took a glance at Ron standing hand in hand with Hermione and smiled fondly at him. He felt his ears warm up a bit and gave her a small smile.

Turning back to Hermione, Ron stepped closer to her and put his arms around her waist. Smiling, she placed her hands on the nape of his neck and left only a slight distance between them.

Fred and George had had their heads together, speaking to each other, but Ron saw the delight on their faces when they looked up to see him and Hermione standing quite close together, swaying slightly to the music.

Ron was reveling in how lucky he was to finally be able to do something like this with Hermione and not be uncomfortably aware of obvious he was being when he heard Luna cry out, "Oh, look, there they are!"

He and Hermione both looked up to see the mistletoe sprig flying away from Luna's hands, using what appeared to be 3 pairs of leathery, violet wings, flapping madly. The mistletoe rose steadily higher until it was very close to the ceiling. Then the nargles keep their wings beating up and down but kept their position. Ron was just about to turn back to Hermione when he saw the mistletoe plummet down towards where they were standing. Thinking back to what Luna had said, he smiled and whispered to Hermione, "I think they're targeting us."

She looked surprised. Biting her lip, she joined his gaze directly above them, where the nargles had positioned themselves with the mistletoe. Behind Hermione, Ron could see Fred, George, Harry, Ginny, and Luna all watching intently to see what they would do. Feeling his heart beating madly, Ron locked eyes with Hermione. He noticed her eyes were slightly wide and she looked like she had no idea what he was thinking.

But, come to think of it, he wasn't sure what was going through his mind either.

Everyone was watching them and holding their breath; he was very much aware He tightened his grip on Hermione and said, very softly, "I think it's time to tell them." Without waiting for her to respond, he leaned towards her, closed his eyes, and let his mouth connect with hers, feeling the same bursts of electricity going through him.

At the same time, he heard a cacophony of sounds, so much noise that the music was drowned out. Someone was clapping; he heard Harry's voice ("Whoa!"); the twins were screaming, "WITNESSES! THE FIRST WITNESSES!"

When he opened his eyes, he saw Ginny and Luna looking at them with wide, happy eyes; Harry's mouth was hanging open; and the twins were running around him and Hermione in a circle, their wands to their throats, screaming, "FRED AND GEORGE, PRANKSTERS EXTRAORDINAIRE, FIRST WITNESSES!" Then they set off more fireworks, the noise surpassing the one that they had made before.

Ron looked at Hermione, to see her reaction. She was grinning, positively aglow, and he knew he'd done the right thing when she threw her arms around him and said in his ear, "Thanks, Ron."

He was rubbing her back gently when he saw his mum come in. She took one look at the running twins and bellowed, "FINITE INCANTATEM!" Immediately, the fireworks disappeared, Fred's and George's voices returned to normal, and the music stopped playing. Ron pulled away from Hermione and turned to see his mother looking livid.

"WHAT is the meaning of this? Are you two absolutely deaf?!" She was glaring at both twins, who still looked like they had won a million Galleons.

"Mother!" they both said gleefully.

"You had to see it!" Fred shouted.

"Hell, we'll just ask them to do it again!" George yelled.

"What?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

Fred and George turned to look at Ron and Hermione, who were now standing side by side, hand in hand. Ron tried to find a good way to explain to his mother what had happened, but the twins beat him to it.

"Your Prefect Ronniekins, Mum..." George began.

"Just snogged the beautiful Miss Granger!" Fred finished with a flourish.

"Oh, stop it, you two!" Mrs. Weasley said, waving them away and taking a breath to start telling them off again. Ginny, however, had some input.

"It's...it's true, Mum." She sounded quite shocked.

Mrs. Weasley took one look at her son and the girl next to him, as if seeing them for the first time. Then her face split into a huge grin; she hurried over to where they were standing and then threw her arms around both of them, mumbling something about something "wonderful" and being "so glad" and them being "perfect for each other."

And Ron, held in the embrace of his mother and the girl he cared about most in the world, felt that finally, some things really made sense.

END POV

A/n: So? And, for the record, I wanted to get this up on Hermione's birthday, and I got it done, because here in California it is 10:40 P.M., September 19. So there you go P. Please review, everyone, and tell me what you think!