This was written for the Fear Factor, Fanfiction style Competition by flutter of angel wings. I'm not usually a big Romione fan, but here it is.

Ron gulped as he looked around the looming shelves around him. He was obviously in way over his head and needed to leave right now before the contents flew off to smother him. This had been a terrible idea.

"Hello Ron," said a balding man as he spotted the redhead. "What are you doing here? Hermione has the day off."

"Hello Patrick," Ron replied. "I know she does. Actually, I'm here for some Christmas shopping."

Patrick clucked his tongue in disapproval. "I can't believe you'll have left something so important until the last minute. It's your first Christmas together!"

He lowered his head in shame. "I know," he said miserably. "I really did mean to get it done already, but time just slipped away. It shouldn't be the 23rd already!"

The older man chuckled. "I hear you, boy. My wife's getting a new cookbook because it's all I could find at the last minute. So did you have anything in mind?"

Ron looked around. "Uh… A book?"

Patrick sighed. "You're going to need a little help. Come on up to the counter, and I'll pull out Hermione's wish list. It's store policy for employees to have a list of books they'd like in case we have a surplus. That way, we can get rid of them with the employee discount."

Ron let out a breath of relief. He could do this; they could get through Christmas together.

…

Hermione pushed open the door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and quickly leapt to the side as a group of children came hurtling past. "You shouldn't run so fast," she admonished, although even Hermione knew her words fell on deaf ears. She shook her head and started through the maze that was the joke shop.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" George asked as she reached the counter. "Ron isn't working today. "

"I know," she replied, leaning against the counter. "I need some help."

"With what?"

She bit her lip and confessed, "I haven't done Ron's Christmas shopping."

"Hermione," he said in shock. "Even I'm finished with my shopping already.

Her head dropped down onto her hands. "I know," she replied, voice muffled by the counter. "I'm not usually like this, but I've been working extra hours at the store since Maurois quit. Time got away from me."

George shook his head at her. "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve."

She looked up. "Then you understand why I'm here today."

"Not really," George replied. "You should be out finding something."

"I don't have the slightest idea what he wants," she said with a sigh.

"A new broom?"

Hermione glared at him. "George Weasley. I don't fly. Getting Ron a broom would be an invitation to be pestered about learning how."

He shrugged. "In that case, I'm sure we can find something here."

"George, you're a lifesaver."

…

Ron started to fidget as he sat in the living room. They'd already decided that presents would be opened after supper on Christmas Eve since they were going over to the Burrow Christmas morning. Christmas Eve had finally arrived, and Hermione was in the kitchen making dinner. Left with nothing else to do, Ron fidgeted.

Meanwhile Hermione was starting to sweat. She'd imagined making a grand dinner would be romantic and sweet. So far, she wasn't finding any romance, only stress. She was sure the ham was overly dry, the beans still cold, and the pie crust too flakey. Hermione ran a hand through her hair. This was a disaster, and Ron was going to hate it.

"Hermione?"

Speak of the devil and he will call.

"What, Ron?"

"Is there something burning?"

She looked at the stove and gave a strangled cry. The oven was smoking. Forgetting her wand for a moment, Hermione seized a dish towel, threw open the oven door, and began to beat at the smoke.

"Aguamenti!"

The spray of water doused Hermione, although it was meant to only hit the stove. Once the smoke was gone, she looked up at Ron, who stood behind her with his wand at his side. She bit her lip, trying her hardest not to start bawling like a child.

Ron couldn't stand how pitiful his girlfriend looked. Hermione had water dripping off her and her face was crumpled up like someone had pushed on it from all sides. He opened out his arms silently, and she slowly stepped towards him. When she reached him, Ron wrapped his arms around her sopping wet form.

"I ruined dinner," she said miserably.

"You did not," Ron argued, hoping she didn't notice that his stomach chose this moment to growl. "Besides," he said as he tapped her chin to make her look him in the eye, "we'll be eating rich foods tomorrow that Mum will probably have you help her make. We don't really need it two days in a row."

Hermione barked out a short laugh. "You're just saying that so I won't feel as bad."

"Maybe," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean it's not true. You want to eat your cooking? Okay, we've got plenty of leftovers in the fridge."

That's exactly what they did. After they ate, they exchanged presents. Hermione wowed over her new Extended History of Magic, and Ron grinned at his new shield gloves. With much hugging and kissing, they turned on the radio and cuddled under a blanket.

"This isn't a Wizard song," Ron commented, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's Jingle Bell Rock. Everyone knows it." She began to hum along, giving Ron an idea.

He stood up and took Hermione by the hand.

"What are you doing?" she laughed as he started to move about.

"It's Christmas," he pointed out. "I think you can endure my terrible dancing for just a little while."

They danced the rest of the song and several after it, just moving and goofing off. Neither realized that they were starting their very own tradition.

The next year they ate leftovers and danced. Even eventually having kids didn't change much. Many of their relatives thought it was mad, but Ron and Hermione still served their kids whatever was in the fridge for Christmas Eve supper, let them open presents, and ushered them off to bed. Then they danced.

I don't think it was too terribly bad for a girl who has spent most of the last year as a hardcore Dramione fan. Please review, even if you hated it. Just explain why you hated it, preferably without all capital letters.