HERMIONE

"Open mine first." Hermione all but demanded, holding the gift out to Ron after taking her seat on his bed. She angled towards him and blushed slightly at her own forwardness. "I think you'll find it especially useful." She added when he took it from her. In exchange, she took her gift from him and set it gingerly in her lap, trying not to look too impressed by the wrapping job - but she was. She'd be willing to bet a knapsack full of Galleons that Molly'd helped him, but even so, the thought was what counted.

"Yeah? We'll see, won't we?" Ron teased her with a playful wag of his brows. He gave the package a quick feel around and chuckled dryly. "Feels like a book. If this is your way of getting me to read Hogwarts: A History…"

Hermione did her best to look affronted by his assumption but couldn't quite keep herself from laughing along with him. She gave him a playful little shove.

"Oh, just open it, Ronald."

His grin softened as their eyes met. His gaze was as piercing as the blue of his irises. Hermione felt heat rising in her cheeks. They had to have only been staring at each other for a few passing seconds, but for all its intensity, Hermione would have believed it to be minutes, maybe even hours - and she would have been perfectly happy if that were the case.

"Alright, alright. Let's see, here…" Ron seemed to reluctantly drag his gaze from her own in order to open his gift. His expression dropped slightly when the discarded wrapping paper revealed a rather nondescript book. "A…book. Right. Thanks, loads, 'Mione."

"It's not just a book, Ron. It's a magicked planner!"

Ron cocked a brow at her. "Hermione, I don't know if you've noticed - but you've been a witch for five years. Everything in our world's magicked."

Hermione rolled her eyes, although the corners of her lips turned up at his teasing…something she could've sworn drew Ron's attention at once.

"It's magicked to keep you on track with your studies. I know you've been struggling to balance everything; what with you being on the Quidditch team and all - and now, with Harry banned, your schedule is bound to be even more grueling. This should help. All you have to do is jot down your assignments and their due dates once, and it will remind you daily as it nears. It's supposed to get more and more annoying the longer you procrastinate, which should teach you the importance of time management." She took a breath and stifled a giggle at his incredulous expression. "Listen, as much as I adore spending the nights before your assignments are due practically doing them for you, I'd much rather spend that free time with you actually enjoying myself."

Her cheeks flooded with blush at the potential implication there, and all rambling ceased at once. Ron, however, looked a lot more pleased with his gift than he did moments ago.

"Right, then. Thanks, Hermione. This…uhh…should be useful, you're right." He flipped through the pages some more, and as he did, Hermione felt her stomach lurch. She'd forgotten what she wrote in the back. Where Harry's was blank, Ron's copy was inscribed and personalized. It was a silly, romantic little impulse she'd followed the night before when she couldn't sleep. It felt harmless at the time, but now that Ron might very well read it in front of her, it seemed extremely idiotic to her.

"Umm… S-So, my turn, right?" Hermione said hurriedly, going for the white bow atop her own present.

Too late. Hermione suppressed a groan when she looked up to find Ron reading the back cover of his planner.

'Weasley is my king.

Happy Christmas, Ron.

Yours,

Hermione

God. What the hell was she thinking? And putting the heart at the end!? Who was she, some love-struck, pathetic little girl writing 'Hermione Weasley' over and over in her diary?

Hermione was willing to bet the inevitably perfect results of her O.W.L.'s that her face was redder than Ron's hair - but she was bound and determined to leave it alone, provided he did, as well. She busied herself with the ribbon on her gift, and when she finally dared to look up at Ron, he had that same, strikingly soft expression on his face. The shadow of a smile was set on his features - but it wasn't arrogant or smug. It did, however, melt her on the spot.

Flustered, Hermione made quick work of opening her gift. When the wrapping paper was discarded, and the box was opened, Hermione pulled out a small, crystalized bottle affixed with a tell-tale spritzer. He'd gotten her perfume.

She looked at him curiously. "Perfume? What…do you not like the way I smell?" Real panic coursed through her, but she thought she hid that well enough under a guide of trademark indignation.

"What? No, nothing at all like that. You smell great!" Hermione stifled a giggle but let him continue. "Probably best on busy class days when you haven't done anything to yourself. Like…you know, the way you are naturally. When we were in Hogsmeade one weekend, I found this in one of the shops. I thought it smelled like you… I dunno - I'm a git for it. You're just…hard to shop for."

Now it was Ron's turn to blush, but Hermione was too busy reading the notes on the back of the bottle to find out what Ron thought she smelled like.

FEELING:

Lush & Dreamy

NOTES:

Pomegranate

Lilac

Orange Flower

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady, although the inner onslaught of giddy giggles threatened to break her resolve at every turn.

"So, you think I naturally smell lush and dreamy… I suppose there are worse adjectives."

Hermione was touched. This was probably the most romantic gesture Ron had ever attempted. Assuming, of course, he meant it to be romantic. Typically buying perfume was - but she couldn't exactly count on Ron Weasley to know that. If she could, she'd have to allow herself the hope that maybe he actually felt something for her - and that was too risky. The letdown if she were wrong would be devastating, and she knew it.

"Thank you, Ron. It's…certainly unusual but very thoughtful of you."

He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck - an action that made his bicep flex, drawing her gaze to his body once more. "No problem." He said gruffly - but for all Hermione knew, he could've just told her Professor McGonagall was downstairs and ready to offer an early graduation and a job as Minister of Magic. All she could focus on was Ron's arm, which led to his built shoulder and down to his chest, which strained at the tight fit of his old t-shirt.

"I…like the way you smell too." She said, blushing as soon as her ears registered the words that left her mouth. Scrambling to regain her composure, she shook her head and opted for an attempt at teasing nonchalance. "I don't know if I'd call your scent lush and dreamy…but it's nice."

Ron grinned sheepishly and scooted in a little closer.

"Yeah? What would you call it, then? I just gave you perfume with a whole paragraph on how you smell. I think I deserve a little more than 'nice.'" He raised an expectant brow at her - Hermione's brain was going fuzzy. "You could…get a little closer if you need a reminder."

Hermione gulped, her eyes falling to a spot on his lower neck, just above his collarbone. "Ronald, honestly…" Was it her imagination, or was he inching closer? Too close. All she'd have to do is lean in and eliminate those few precious inches keeping her lips from grazing the soft skin of his neck. Her hand trembled over her lap. She lifted it and set it on his thigh, leaning towards him as he continued to move towards her. She knew his smell all too well; spearmint toothpaste, new parchment, freshly mown grass - a warmth as comforting as it was enticing.

"Ron, Hermione, dear! Breakfast is ready! We're waiting on you two - come on down now - and wash your hands first, Ronald!" Molly's shrill voice from downstairs shattered their bubble, leaving them both red in the face like they were aware for the first time just how close they'd gotten.

"Coming, Mum!" Ron called back, although he hadn't moved yet. Hermione wet her lips and stood up quickly, one hand on her pink cheek, the other holding the bottle of perfume against her chest.

"Well… Right. I'll see you downstairs, Ron." She moved to turn on her heel and exit, but something stopped her. She turned back around, leaned down and pecked Ron on the cheek. There, she was close enough to realize that, yes, he did smell nice. Perhaps not lush - but dreamy was an apt description for sure.

Before he could say anything more, Hermione dashed from the room and swiftly descended the stairs to the breakfast table. She uttered a soft apology to the room before taking a seat next to Ginny. Everyone seemed unphased, to her great relief - that was, until she turned to Ginny and saw her practically bursting at the seams. "Having a good Christmas, Hermione?" She whispered, leaning in a little closer so that one Hermione could hear her. "Sorry we took you away from your king, but we're bloody starving."

Hermione squeaked and turned on Ginny. "What are you on about?"

Ginny grinned knowingly. "Next time, finish up the last touches on your Christmas presents before you shack up with me. I can't be held accountable for my curiosity when a book's left open on your bed while you're in the loo."

Hermione squeezed at Ginny's knee under the table and growled, her cheeks once again that particularly Weasley-esque shade of red. "Tell. No one."

Ginny mock-zipped her lips shut and turned to her plate of food, but not before throwing a wink Hermione's way as Ron finally made it down to join everyone else.

He was wearing his maroon Christmas sweater, which, to Hermione's private delight, was just as tight on his thickly muscled build as his t-shirt was. She knew he thought he looked ridiculous in it, but Hermione thought, again, that dreamy was a perfectly sufficient adjective.