Ron was lying still in bed trying to contain his excitement hoping his dorm mates were drifting off into a deep sleep. He was twiddling a small piece of parchment in his fingers, rolling and unrolling it repeatedly. It was too dark to read it right now but he'd read the few words about five hundred times and it hadn't been hard to memorise.

Common room catch up? 11pm? H x

Hermione had passed him the note as she got up from dinner. He was elated. It had been 12 days since their last late night common room meet up…but who was counting! Things had gotten busier with school work, Harry was attending private lessons with Dumbledore which were getting pretty intense and he was heading towards the Quidditch final as Gryffindor keeper, practising every spare hour. He barely had time for normal socialising, never mind private rendezvous with his favourite witch.

The thing about the note that really intrigued him was the little x at the end. Had she really signed off with a kiss? It wasn't just a smudge or a random scratch of her quill? It certainly looked like a purposeful x. But how ridiculous to agonise over whether it was a kiss or not. If it was she wouldn't have meant anything by it. They were best friends, it's normal to put an x at the end of notes to your best friend. He wanted to ask Harry if he'd ever received a note that was signed off H x. But in all honesty he didn't want to know the answer either way.

He considered what she might want to see him about. Probably nothing specific. It did just say a catch up. It was unlikely she felt the need to profess her love for him but a boy could dream, right? Bloody hell the thought just struck him, she probably wanted to talk about everything that was going on with Harry. He felt a jealous pang. He knew his best mate was going through a lot right now but they talked and stressed and worried about the brewing war and Harry's ultimate role in it that he felt like he was losing himself. If it wasn't for homework and quidditch it would be all consuming. He never thought he'd be thankful for classes and schoolwork.

He let his mind wander to the altogether happier thought of their last one to one meet up. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his skin had goose pimples just from the thought of her touch. Her hands had been so warm and caressed him so lovingly. It was a memory he would cherish, the most intimate they'd ever been with one another. Well she'd ever been with him. He yearned to touch her too and wished for another excuse to do so. He could hardly just offer to rub her neck, right? Pity she couldn't pull a muscle. Merlin, he really was a completely awful person he realised. He wasn't wishing her harm just a small twinge really, that he could rub better…maybe a tight calf muscle? He needed to catch a grip!

Reminiscing over that night had interrupted his daily life over the last 12 days. He'd daydreamed in class, on the Quidditch pitch, been so lost in thought he'd forgotten when to turn in the hallway and ended up late for class. He also thought about it alone in bed at night or in the shower. He justified himself by thinking every teenage boy had 'go to' fantasies that surfaced when they needed release. However, he was sure it was highly inappropriate to have these fantasies involving an unsuspecting friend.

When he'd first started thinking of Hermione during those intimate private moments, possibly in 4th year…he'd fought so hard to stop them, feeling like he was violating her in some way. Nowadays and especially since the massage he'd given up trying to stop the thoughts and allowed them to progress in whatever shape or form they wanted. Please Merlin don't let her master occlumency before I do! He made a mental note to ask Harry how it was done, not that he was a master himself but he'd at least attempted it. Fuck…if she ever found out what his brain conjured in the moments of eruption he'd be a dead man, he was sure of it.

It was 10.55pm by the watch his parents had given him for coming of age. He slowly got out of bed trying to stop the mattress springs giving him away. He didn't think Harry was asleep, he couldn't hear the usual deep breathing but he didn't stir or question him as he left the dorm. He realised he was still holding the parchment and shoved it into the pocket of his pyjamas, he'd be wanting to keep that. She wasn't downstairs so he took his usual seat for their meet ups on the sofa opposite the fireplace. It was only a few moments before she appeared.

"Hey" she whispered. He watched her walk towards him and around the sofa, taking in her maroon fluffy sleep socks - cute, white v neck cotton top - practical and finally navy and white stripped shorts - sexy. Shorts. She was wearing bloody shorts. What was she trying to do to him? There were very few occasions he'd had an opportunity to view so much of her beautiful, creamy, exposed skin. He was thankful tonight would be one of them. She had no book or hot water bottle with her tonight. He couldn't help but feel a little smug, she was here completely for him, no other excuse or reason, but to talk to him alone.

"Hi" he croaked. He had to clear his throat, it was suddenly very dry and the greeting seemed to get stuck on the way out.

She walked around the sofa and sat next to him. She sat right next to him twisting on the sofa to face him, her right leg bent lined up against the length of his femur, touching him through his pyjama bottoms.

"How are you?" She asked immediately.

"Good. How are you?" He wasn't sure why he felt so awkward. He'd spoken to her like a normal human being only a few hours ago before pretending to go to bed. The only difference was that they were now alone and she was in shorts.

"I'm worried about you." she answered quickly.

"You are?" Well he hadn't been expecting that.

"Yes. You hardly ate anything at dinner, which is so unlike you and I saw you running off to the toilet after transfiguration. By the time you made it to potions you were positively green." She had a worried expression which he thought was cute but he could feel that uncomfortable reddening in his ears happening. So she wanted to talk about how rubbish he'd looked today. Shite.

"Oh…err…yeah just the usual pre match nerves. You know?"

"It's the Slytherins and that stupid song isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah and the rest…Ravenclaws are as bad at the moment. And yeah I hate that bloody song."

"Are you vomiting?" He winced at her clinical expression, vomiting sounds so much more severe than a bit of a boke or puking doesn't it?

"Yeah a bit" Gods this is mortifying.

"That's a fairly extreme reaction to nerves Ron." He didn't say anything, just shrugged and looked down…luckily that let his gaze rest on her legs. She must think him a total idiot, but he couldn't help how his body reacted to the pressure. She was fidgeting now, like she didn't know what to do with her hands. "I…umm…wanted to tell you that I…that I…think you're a really great quidditch player. I love watching you. I know I said something horrible while we weren't speaking about liking really good quidditch players. It was spiteful. I was…trying to hurt you. I didn't mean it and I'm really very sorry."

"You really didn't mean it?" Ron didn't really know how to process this apology. Hermione rarely apologised, to be fair she was rarely wrong enough about anything to need to apologise and she certainly didn't make a big thing of an apology like this.

"Well I mean, I do like really good quidditch players, but that category doesn't exclude you and when I said it I intimated that it did exclude you and that was wrong. I knew you were listening and I was trying to rub it in about McLaggan." She said sheepishly.

Ron nodded but didn't say anything. He was trying to fully decipher what she'd just said. He was a bit slow when she started to use big words. What he did know though was that overhearing that conversation had really hurt him. He'd thought over it for days. It depressed him thinking about Hermione with Krum and McLaggan and how they were superior to him. But he felt like that anyways, it wasn't just because of what she'd said. Frigging McLaggan had been bugging him all year. Ron felt like he'd tried to steal his position as keeper and then tried to steal his Hermione. His…he had to stifle a laugh, his brain was ridiculous sometimes. If he was rational he knew neither were actually his…but he couldn't help how he felt about it anymore than he could help the vomiting.

He obviously been lost in thought too long because she went on. "I wish Harry had let me in on what he was planning on doing to you. It was a stroke of genius. If I'd known, he was only pretending I'd have agreed it was a great idea. I got caught up thinking you were both cheating and it appeared that I didn't have confidence in you. I'm sorry for that too. But Ron my point, and there is a point, is once you get past your nerves you are truly incredible. You don't need Felix to play well. That match against Slytherin proves it. You have nothing to be nervous about. And don't worry about that stupid song, Gryffindor will be singing our version" She reached over and pulled his hand into her lap holding it in both of hers. "I'll be singing our version." And she softly sang the first few lines of Weasley is our King before laughing.

Ron had listened intently to her speech but had been distracted by the electric shock that ran up his arm when she'd reached for his hand. She hadn't let it go. She'd stopped talking and surprised him when she started to sing in a whisper.

"You will?" The thought of her cheering him on really made it all worthwhile.

"Of course I will. I always do." She beamed at him.

His heart soared. "That means a lot Hermione. Thank you." He started to rub small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. This time she looked down to their joined hands.

"I hate seeing you in such distress. I want to say it's only Quidditch but I know that won't work." she giggled and rolled her eyes. "So the most important thing is that you know your worth as our keeper. You're a valuable member of that team, they can't do it without you."

Ron raised an eyebrow so she continued. "No really Ron! They can't do it without you. That match against Hufflepuff was a disaster. They need you. Even more so since Harry can't play."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." He was repeating himself but he couldn't think of what else to say. Hearing these things from Hermione felt so much better than anyone else. Harry had tried to say the team needed him and stuff but it didn't really matter coming from him. Which was stupid since he was house captain.

"Good. I hope you've listened to every word. I hope you take it in and know that I believe in you. Quell your nerves and set out to do what you did against Slytherin. I believe in you. I'll be watching…and singing." She laughed softly. "But it's late, you need sleep before the match. We'll go down to breakfast together tomorrow, yes? I want to see you eat something before the match and I please try to keep it down." she said earnestly.

"I don't really know what to say. I didn't know you were this keen for Gryffindor to win the cup."

"Ron, you know I'm not. This conversation isn't about Quidditch, not really. What I'm keen for you to do is have confidence in your abilities, confidence in yourself and I don't want to see my best friend making himself ill over misplaced self-doubt."

"Ok, I think I get it." He smiled at her. He couldn't help feeling deflated at the mention of 'best friends'. But that's what they were and he was so glad they were again. Best friends was so much better than…whatever that had been a few months ago.

"Good. Now to bed." She instructed, smiling up at him.

He was reluctant to let go of her hand but she was right, he should at least try to get some sleep. They walked to the bottom of the girl's dorm staircase. She turned to him and he held his breath.

"Best of luck tomorrow Ron." She stood on her tiptoes and reached her arms around his neck. Momentarily startled he quickly regained composure and urgently responded to the hug. He wasn't sure how long it would last and needed to savour every millisecond. His hands wound around her waist and rested on the small of her back. Her t-shirt had ridden up as she stretched to reach him which left him touching her exposed skin. He moved his thumbs in circles, caressing her again. He pulled her whole body tight to him. He could feel her warmth, smell her hair, feel her breasts pressed against him. Fuck he thought, this moment was about to ruined by the blood rushing to his cock. He wanted to stay there for hours but had to pull back to prevent his embarrassment. She dropped back to her normal height but before he could say anything more she lifted onto her tiptoes again and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight Ron." She smiled sweetly at him before disappearing quickly up the stairs.

He couldn't even say goodnight. He felt like such a prat, how could one innocent peck on the cheek leave him dumbfounded. She'd done the same thing before a match in 5th year, it was alarming to realise he reacted the same, you'd think with a year of maturing he could handle things like this better. He was glad she had left so quickly because there was suddenly raging evidence of his attraction to her. He very much doubted he was going to get to sleep anytime soon.