A/N: This is a one-shot fic. It's my first one so bear with me. Slightly fluffy, starring everyone's favorite Harry Potter couple! Please R&R!

Ron was staring, he only realized it now. He tore his eyes away from her. Focus, Weasley! George's voice scolded, he should have never went to his brothers for help. Yes, focus.... he thought. He peered back down at his paper, no more then two lines written. He tried to concentrate, he really did, but it was hopeless.

She was sitting in an armchair by the fire, bent over a stack of papers, scribbling furiously. Her untamable hair falling down into her eyes, so that every now and then she would sweep it back, only to have it fall back down again. Her small hand zoomed across her parchment, the quill making great sweeping motions.

It was Christmas break and the only five people in the common room were Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and himself, Ron Weasley. He couldn’t focus, not with her across the room, being so utterly perfect he just had to watch her. He threw his quill down in defeat, making Ginny look up from the furious chess game she was having with Harry.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Can't concentrate...” he mumbled, ruffling his hair.

It was quiet for sometime. Harry and Ginny continued their game and Neville struggled on with his essay, occasionally groaning in frustration. Ron stared longingly outside. Fresh snow had fallen the pervious night, and he was dying to go out in it. The professors were fussing on about how fast their N.E.W.T's where coming up, they had set essays over the Christmas holiday! Which kept them stuffed up in the bloody common room all day. Just when he thought he would have to pretend to go to the bathroom to escape (Hermione would not allow anyone to go out in the snow while there was work to be done), Hermione herself threw down her quill! Ron gaped at her. When did Hermione give up on homework? But then again, he thought, she had been writing so fast, she had probably finished.

“I can't concentrate!” she cried, sweeping her hair back once more.

“Me neither,” Ron added, but instantly felt stupid. Didn’t he say that just five minutes ago?

Hermione. She made him so nervous and fidgety. He could never concentrate around her, it was a wonder he ever got anything done! Stupid feelings...Get in the way of everything. Ron wouldn’t admit it, but he would go to the end of this very earth for her. All she would have to do is ask him. He found himself wanting to just run up to her, and confess his undying love. He didn’t have the guts. At that point in his thoughts the voice of Draco Malfoy popped into his head, taunting him about not being a man. He shook it off.

Hermione got up, stretched and walked over to the window.

“It's so nice outside, does anyone want to come out for a walk?” she asked.

Now, this was his chance to be alone with her, to confess his feelings.

“Uh, I will, hold on and I'll get my cloak,” he said, smoothing back his hair in attempt to look mature.

“You coming, Harry?” she asked.

Damn! Always Harry isn’t it? Well it always had been, and it probably always would be. But Ron wasn’t mad. With all that was going on with Harry right now, he needed a break.

But it seemed that Harry was too absorbed in his chess game to notice Hermione even ask.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Hermione said with a laugh.

Hold on a second! She...she was smiling! She wasn’t disappointed Harry wasn’t coming! Maybe there was a chance she’d like him after all! Fat chance, Weasley, Malfoy’s voice said. Malfoy’s voice was right. Why would she fancy someone like him, when she could have famous dear Vicky Krum? Stupid Bulgarian git...

Ron followed Hermione’s lead and went up to his dormitory. He picked up his cloak and then looked at his small assortment of hats. Hmm...what color did Ginny say looked good with red? He instantly cast the red one away, it wouldn’t even look like he was wearing one. He wished he could go down and ask her. But what if Hermione was already down there? He didn’t want to look suspicious.

Blue! Yes, it was blue! Ron stuffed the blue hat onto his head and peered into the mirror. It looked decent enough. He flew down the stairs, fearing he had already taken long enough. Hermione was down there, putting on one of her own homemade House Elf hats. She was still raging on about S.P.E.W, maybe even more then before. Harry and Ron had given up trying to persuade her that they were happy the way they were. Better to let her carry on with it.

“Ready to go?” she asked cheerfully.

She looked so wonderful, her cloak done up just so with her scarf hanging out.

“Ron?” she snapped him out of his trance.

“Huh? Erm..yes, ready,” he said, feeling the color rise in his ears.

He followed Hermione out the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady was having a drink with Violet, a member of another of Hogwarts many pictures.

“I wish they would stop -hic!- stop swinging us back and forth all day!” Violet said, swinging her wine glass back and forth with enthusiasm as she spoke.

“All part of the job, Violet! All part of the job...” The Fat Lady said loudly, taking a swing of whatever she was drinking.

Ron and Hermione began walking, and got into a long decision about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“I think she’s a vampire,” Ron declared, it was the theory he and Harry were sticking to.

“Don’t be ridiculous Ron! Dumbledore wouldn’t hire a vampire!” Hermione scoffed.

“He hired Lupin didn’t he? He’s a werewolf! And did you see those teeth! There not normal, Hermione,” he said.

Hermione kept silent. Probably contemplating on weather or not Dumbledore did hire a vampire.

They stepped out onto the grounds and Ron took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Glad to be outside again!” he said, stretching his arms towards the sky.

They walked around the grounds, looking at the winter wonderland.

Ron watched her. It began to lightly snow and snowflakes littered her hair. Her nose was red from the cold, and she scratched her lips. Ron found himself wanted to press his against him. He was summoning up all the courage he had. Come on Ron! You can do it! He would do it.

“Hermione I...I,” he began.

He couldn’t do it. Quick, something quick.

“I think we should pay a visit to Hagrid.” he said lamely.

Oh nice one, Weasel. Malfoy’s voice hissed.

Hermione began to nod, but her eyes passed over the lake, now frozen, and her lips formed a smile.

“I’ve got a better idea...” she said.

“What, you want to go ice skating? We did that yesterday.” he complained.

“Not exactly ice skating. Do you know how to play hockey, Ron?” she asked, still smiling.

“What -ey?” he asked, unaware of the popular muggle sport.

“Hockey, i'm not an expert at it. Michael taught me how to play road hockey last summer, before Grimmauld Place.” she explained.

Michael? Who was Michael?

“Who’s Michael?” he said, a little too fast.

“Relax Ron, he’s a Muggle boy who lives in my neighborhood. Just a friend.” Hermione said.

Ron’s muscles un-tensed. But he was still unsure about this Michael guy.

“Okay, well what’s..wait what did you call it? Hockey? How do you play?” Ron asked, now curious about this sport.

“Well, it's sort of like Quidditch in a sense, I guess,” Hermione said, starting back up to the castle. “And it's sort of not,”

Well that clears things up. Hermione was deep in thought, perhaps thinking of the rules of this strange game. She looked adorable when she was thinking, brow furrowed, biting on the tip of her finger.

“We each have sticks,” she said, finally. “Long ones though, not like Beater bats. And there’s a puck, and you have to try and get it into the other teams net. And your wearing skates, so this is all on ice.”

Sounds easy enough. Ron was getting interested in this new found sport.

“Well, lets go get our skates,” Ron said, clapping his hands together.

“Really?” Hermione said, face lighting up.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” he asked.

Hermione shrugged and walked back inside. They raced back up to Gryffindor tower. The others took no notice of their presence and continued doing what they were doing. Harry and Ginny were still playing. But Dean and Seamus were in the common room. Dean was trying to get Ginny’s attention away from the chess board and onto him, with not much luck. Seamus was trying to explain something to Neville, still working on his paper. Ron’s heart fell, he would have to complete his essay later. But at the sight of Hermione, running upstairs to retrieve her skates his heart lifted. Damn the bloody essay! He would be outside, playing some Muggle game, with the girl of his dreams in mere moments.

Ron flung himself under his bed and dug for his old, battered skates. He grabbed them and slung them over his shoulder, racing back downstairs. They walked back down to the Entrance hall, slightly out of breath from the rush to get their skates.

It was still the same outside, not many people there. Some were emersed in large snowball fights, some creating snow men to look like Dumbledore himself. They walked over to the lake and sat down in the snow. Ron quickly laced up his skates, making them a tad tighter, he didn’t want to fall down. Hermione was up, stumbling around in the snow, wand out.

“Are we expecting an attack?” he asked with a laugh.

“No,” Hermione said with a smile. “I have to find something to transfigure into two sticks, a puck, and a net.”

Oh. Ron helped Hermione look around but they came up with nothing. In the end, Ron suggested the idea of using their shoes, Hermione said that would do. Hermione transfigured it all (Ron had tried to transfigure his large shoe into a puck, it turned out 3 sizes too big). They assembled themselves out onto the ice.

“Okay, stand across from me,” Hermione said, instructing Ron on what to do.

“What, leave the net unguarded?” he asked, hadn’t she said something about guarding the net?

“We’ll both try to get it in that net first,” she explained, pointing to the net. “And then we’ll take shots on each other.”

Ron nodded, he might like this sport after all. He stood across from Hermione with his transfigured stick, and stylish blue hat. She raised her hand and dropped the puck, Ron hadn’t been expecting that.

Hermione sped off to the other side of the lake, Ron chased after her. Hermione was pretty good at this ‘hockey’. Whoever Michael was, he had taught her well.

After a while, Hermione was beating Ron, badly. He needed to get one in! He had the puck, he was racing down the ice, the net was right in front of him!

“Yes!” he cried, as the puck bounced around the inside of the net.

“Good job, Ron!” Hermione squealed, skating up next to him.

Ron was so happy! He finally got it in!

Without thinking he scooped Hermione up into a big hug. She gave a little squeak of surprise.

Whoa, slow down Ron! He was hugging Hermione, the girl he had been thinking about every second since he realized she was a member of the female species. He found himself not wanting to let go, her hair smelt so nice, and despite how cold it was outside, she was so warm. He began to panic, what now? Should he tell her how he felt? No, not now. Ron practically jumped away from Hermione, and Hermione must have been too caught up in the moment, when Ron backed away, she fell forwards, right on top of him.

And there they were. Lying in a heap on the ice. The girl of your dreams is on top of you, you idiot! Georges voice urged him. Do something!

Hermione herself was not doing anything, she actually looked quite comfortable. It wasn’t like she could get up anyway, their legs were twisted together!

Ron took a deep breath. Hermione looked as if she just realized what had happened and was raising herself up. Now was the perfect time.

“H-hermione,” Ron stamered, the back of his ears turning red.

“Yes?” she breathed, probably imagining what this might look like to others.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

IDIOT! What a thing to say! Oh you're in for it now! George's voice yelled.

And George's voice was right. Ron nearly kicked himself. What a stupid thing to say? He would never hear the end of this, if it got out. But nothing prepared Ron for what happened next.

“Yes.” she breathed, looking quite dazed.

Ron pressed his lips up against hers, and it was everything he imagined it to be, and maybe a little more. It was the perfect first kiss, with the prefect girl. Ron was so happy, he didn’t even feel her skate digging into his leg, and didn’t see his best mate, Harry, coming out with his skates to join them. He wouldn’t hear the end of this.

Fin.