Chapter Four: A Flame Starting to Ignite… Again

Disclaimer: Told you before... I don't own anything! (Though I wish I did...)

A/n: Thanks again to all of those who reviewed... Oh, and by the way, in response to a question; Harry's going to come in later chapters (I still haven't thought where he would be placed, so patience, dear readers!)... Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry for not updating! Exams came and I still have a hectic schedule to keep up with.

Gentle, faint rays of sunlight came dancing about in the early morning hours of a chilly Sunday morning in late November. The ground was covered with snow and the weather was still very cold and nippy. But despite these not-so-good conditions, nothing prevented Hermione from smiling the second she opened her eyes.

She seemed to be in a very good mood as she twirled around her home as she was fixing up a nice, warm breakfast for herself. Nothing hindered her from feeling the warm glow she was feeling inside. Ginger, for instance, became surprised at her owner's actions. Ginger had never seen Hermione quite as happy as she gave Ginger's food and stroked Ginger's fur.

Hermione did her mountain load of chores quite quickly and without complaint. She was looking forward to see her best friend again. Dressing up warmly in a purplish-blue hand-knitted sweater Mrs. Weasley had given her for Christmas a year ago (she didn't lose touch with the Weasley household) and a comfortable pair of jeans and wrapping herself in a coat and scarf, she proceeded outdoors to visit her neighbor.

Skipping slightly, she went to Ron's house and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" a voice asked.

"Ron, it's me, Hermione Jane Granger, one of your best friends?" she answered, laughing quietly.

"Oh, right, err... C'mon in," came the reply.

Ron was unpacking the boxes and was bustling about in the house. Hermione had to put her hand on her mouth to try to stifle her laughter. Ron was running around and was trying to do many things at the same time. For instance, he was trying to unpack a box while levitating a lamp, a dresser and a clock, and was eating a piece of toast at the same time.

"Can I help?"

"Sure. Can't you see I'm desperately in need of help?" Ron said, lopsidedly smiling, his eyes seemingly laughing.

With Hermione's help, they managed to unpack the boxes within an hour. Then they sat on the sofa and marveled at their task well done while sipping cups of steaming hot chocolate. Just then, Ron stood up suddenly.

"Damn! I just remembered. I've got to go to the Ministry this afternoon. You know... For a job interview." he told Hermione, picking up his cloak and wand. "Can you manage to stay here alone for a few hours? I really need to go now."

"Sure. I can clean up the place while you're out," Hermione replied amusedly, looking at a panicking Ronald Weasley, who was now desperately trying to shove his right shoe on his left foot.

"Thanks a lot! Oh, and there's some pasta in the kitchen if you're hungry. I'll be back soon!" Ron said frantically, finally putting each shoe to its respective foot.

"'Bye!" Hermione told him, smiling, picking up a discarded cardboard box.

"'Bye!" he replied, and leaned towards her, and kissed her chastely and hurriedly on the lips before Apparating out of sight.

Hermione stood dumbfounded. Maybe Ron was aiming for her cheek but missed because he was hurrying to go to the Ministry. She shoved her thoughts aside and just set about on cleaning the cottage for about five hours, stopping only for a short break to eat some of the pasta which Ron cooked, and to her surprise, it tasted delicious, much like Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

Grabbing a plate and filling it again with lasagna, she went back to the living room and stared at the pictures on the mantelpiece. They showed Ron throughout his life; the earliest one was about when he was a year old. The last one was a copy of the one she had at home. But then, Hermione noticed a brass-framed photograph, one which showed Ron and her underneath a tree and against the castle.

"I don't remember that," she said, dropping her fork on the plate and set it on the table.

Looking closer, she found out that she was sleeping, a large, ancient book resting on her arms, and was leaning into Ron's chest, smiling comfortably. Ron, too, was dozing, but had his arm around her protectively and was leaning his head on top of hers.

"Harry and Ginny took that shot when you were too exhausted from reading that what's-its-name-book, and I was busy sleeping because I did my Astronomy essay at dawn," a voice remarked.

"Goodness, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, turning around, and grinning, looking into his face.

"Hi 'Mione"

"You shouldn't do that too often- you might accidentally kill someone out of shock," she scolded gently.

"Do what?"

"Well, for one thing- silent Apparition!" Hermione said thoughtfully, "And you shouldn't scare people like that. They don't know you're there and then you suddenly speak and they might have a heart attack or whatever else goodness-knows-what ---"

"You're ranting again," he said, putting a lopsided grin on his face.

"Oh, was I?"

"Yep"

"I didn't notice because I was talking to you because you scared me and then---"

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry," she said apologizingly.

Ron smiled and went over to her, placing his arm around her shoulders, in a friendly gesture. Hermione leant into his chest, snuggling for warmth.

"You're early," Hermione continued, leaning her head towards him.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Not a bit," she answered. "Have you even noticed I've cleaned?"

"Not really,"

His reply earned him a playful slap on the arm by Hermione.

"Sorry, just kidding," Ron said apologetically, bending his head and laying it on top of hers, rumpling her hair. "Of course I did."

"One more question: Why didn't you tell me we had a picture together?" she asked.

"I dunno, maybe I just forgot," he told her, all the while gazing at the mantelpiece. "Hey, 'Mione, did you eat the lasagna yet?"

"Yes, Ron. I could've sworn it tasted much like Mrs. Weasley's cooking."

"Nope, you're wrong there. I made it myself."

"You did? But how could you cook anything to be edible? I thought the only things you beat me at were chess and Quidditch?"

"You mean you can't cook, 'Mione?"

"Of course I can!" Hermione retorted while looking scandalized. "It's just… my pasta doesn't turn out really well."

"Oh. Anyway, Can you help me put up the Christmas decorations tomorrow?" Ron pleaded, his azure eyes looking desperately at Hermione.

"Sure, as long as you teach me how to make incredibly scrumptious pasta."

"It's a deal."

A rather awkward silence enveloped them amidst the fury of the blizzard raging outside.

"Um, 'Mione?" Ron inquired.

"Yes, Ron? What is it?"

"I'm sorry about the kiss earlier," He mumbled quietly. "I didn't mean-"

"It's alright. I would've done the same thing, too," Hermione interrupted, the words coming out of her mouth before she had time to think.

"Oh."

"Ron, do you regret kissing me?" she told him softly, after minutes of stillness.

"Never," Ron said, all the while smiling and kissing her on the cheek.

Hermione smiled and did the same to him. Ron, on the other hand, slid his arm draped on her shoulders and put it on her waist. He led her to the kitchen and they both prepared a dinner of chicken casserole, whilst talking in a laughing manner.

There, in the serene, frosted November evening, a faint flicker of love was apt to shine again.

A/n: It's really none of my business to oblige you to review; it's really up to you…