Hermione did not like Quidditch, that much she knew. Everyone else knew it too. But, Lord help her, she was in Hogsmeade, staring at a Chudley Cannons shirt in a store filled with other obnoxiously-colored Quidditch-themed clothing. She needed to buy the Chudley Cannons shirt for Ron. Her normally rational mind was even telling her so. Frustration, especially with a best friend, is unhealthy, and the best recommendation she could think of was to get rid of it.

Hermione loved Ron dearly, but she wasn’t sure he knew that. If he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, he wasn’t going to change the relationship they already had. She was close to positive he felt something for her-- Ginny had hinted at it for a year before actually telling Hermione about it in full.

So Hermione was going to do the sensible thing and get the confusion and discomfort out of the way. She only hoped it would work.

Ginny had been shopping with some friends in her year until she’d spotted Hermione and seen the annoyance on the older girl’s face. So Ginny said good-bye to her friends and offered to help Hermione.

Of course, Ginny’s clever idea of helping was holding up a pair of boxers that had brooms all over them. Hermione’s eyes got wide as china saucers and she quickly shook her head.

“What?” Ginny asked innocently. “I’d buy them for him.” She blinked demurely.

“Ginny-- they have moving brooms all over them,” Hermione said breathlessly and patronizingly.

“Good point-- that does seem a bit suggestive, doesn’t it?” Ginny asked, looking at the boxers anew. Then she leered and put them back.

“Oh, Lord, I didn’t even think of that.” She closed her eyes and put her knuckles to the bridge of her nose.

“God, Hermione, relax. He’ll love whatever you get him.”

“He won’t love a homework planner,” Hermione retorted.

“Fine. I’ll give you that.”

“Why do boys have to be so hard?” Hermione asked, groaning.

“I’m not even going to touch that question. It’s just a birthday, it’s just a present. I don’t see why you didn’t stress about Valentine’s Day, considering.”

“You didn’t tell me he liked me until after Valentine’s Day, Ginny. It’s almost the end of February and I need a gift for him. I could just give up and get him a nice book, he’d never know the difference.”

“Hermione Jane Granger. I have never known you to be a quitter.” Ginny stared at her in a pointed rebuke. Hermione blinked rapidly three times. “Anyway, you could always just show up in your skivvies and give him a nice aneurysm. Once he recovered, I’m sure he’d thank you.”

“Ginny, don’t be silly,” Hermione said, close to exasperation.

“Too bad you feel that way. Silliness is the very thing that just might get you though this.” Ginny giggled, which calmed Hermione down a bit. Then Hermione saw the reason for the giggle-- Ginny was holding up a lacy nightgown that had Bludgers on it. Specifically, it had two Bludgers on it. Specifically, they were placed upon the behind of the nightgown, over the appropriate area for buttocks.

“Just put it down, Ginny!” Hermione said, giggling and trying to take it from the chortling redhead. Ginny backed away with a slightly maniacal look on her face. “If you put it away, I swear I’ll buy him something Quidditch-related.” Ginny shrugged and hung the nightgown back on the rack.

“Make sure it’s not maroon. He hates maroon.”

“I know. I still like this Chudley Cannons one. It’s a nice color. I think he’d like it. Right?-- I m--”

“Yes,” Ginny interrupted.

“Okay, what size? You’d know better than I would.”

Ginny picked up a folded shirt and held it to herself. “This one.”

“Are you sure? Not that I don’t trust you--”

“I’m sure. For one, with Ron and his ego, it’s better to go bigger rather than smaller.” Ginny flexed her biceps and raised her brows. “Plus, he grows like you wouldn’t believe, the little bugger. He’ll love it.”

“Thank you, Ginny.” Relief was bald-faced on Hermione’s visage, which was a nice change from the panic-stricken expression she had been using.

Hermione took the shirt and was starting to walk to the counter as Ginny called, “It’ll be simply marvelous to have you as a sister-in-law, dearest.” She sounded ridiculously proper and Hermione couldn’t help but giggle again.

After she paid, Hermione said, “I thought I’d get him some chocolate frogs, too. He loves those.”

“Inspired. You’re good at this-- you just got sort of flustered.” Hermione shrugged and smiled. “God knows why. It’s RON.”

“Ginny, be nice. We can’t help who we’re attracted to.” Ginny looked both wistful and guilty at the same time.

“Time for chocolate, eh?” Ginny said quickly after the pause.

“I suppose it is.”

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A small gathering of Gryffindors accumulated in their common room. They’d snuck in Butterbeer and cake and crisps and biscuits. Things were getting a bit rowdy into the wee hours of the morning. Hermione had long grown tired, and Ron hadn’t even opened his presents yet. Hermione sat on the edge of the sofa, afraid she’d fall asleep or fall of her precarious perch. Her hand was lolling off the arm of the sofa, and her head was cupped carelessly in the crook of her elbow. Her eyes were a bit bleary and her hair was as uncontrollable as ever.

“Heya, Hermione,” Ron said, having to speak loudly over the group’s noise. He dropped down next to her and his thigh touched hers. Her head popped up as he scooted over a bit.

“Happy birthday. I could barely reach you to say that before,” she said, smiling. She looked both weary and heartfelt.

“Thanks,” he said, looking at his knee. He gave her a sidelong and sheepish look. “You seem kind of tired. Are you alright?”

“Sure. Only there’s a lot going on lately, that’s all.” She pulled at the edge of her skirt, keeping to at a seemly length.

“ ‘Course. Right. I mean, you can go to sleep if you want. I understand.” He wouldn’t say he didn’t mind; he did mind, but she looked very tired.

“Oh. Perhaps you’re right.” Hermione gave an inward moan. It was his surprisingly subtle way of saying ‘Leave me be, Hermione,’ that’s what it was. Nonetheless, she smiled as she stood. Ron stood quickly, almost overbalancing in his haste.

Hermione went to her tiptoes to give Ron a hug. He leaned in and hugged her back. “Happy birthday,” she whispered. They separated and she went up to her dormitory.

She berated herself in harsh, inner tones as she put on her pajamas (a plaid pair of flannel shorts and a deep purple t-shirt), as she completed her toilette, and as she pulled down her neatly made bedding.

Her blankets bunched around a wrapped package. Ron’s present. Hermione grabbed it, put on a sweater, and went back down the stairs.

Ron and Harry were alone. Strange. They were magicking debris off tables and it looked as though the party was over.

“What’s this? Where’d everyone go?” Hermione asked quietly.

“The food ran out,” Harry said, grinning.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked her, trying to keep major concern out of his voice.

“I just realized I forgot to give you your gift,” she said, moving to sit it on the table with the others.

“Oh, I’ll open it now. That’s nice of you, Hermione, thanks.”

“Well, it’s late, I’m tired, I’m gonna head upstairs, ‘night,” Harry said in one quick breath. He rushed away, taking the stairs two at a time.

Hermione and Ron watched his form with mild confusion and amusement. They looked at one another and chuckled. Hermione took the present from the pile and walked to Ron to transfer its possession. He grasped it with one hand and Hermione was very slow to let go.

She met his gaze and her fingers unlocked. She looked down and backed up a bit. Over Ron’s face passed a look of something she didn’t quite catch, but a smile teased his lips.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked, flushing.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, while his tone and face said ‘Who cares?’ He set down the Butterbeer bottle he’d had in one hand and set about opening the wrappings.

“Thanks!” he said genuinely, though he seemed distracted. He made a move to hug her as she stepped towards him. Somewhere along the way, the messages they’d meant to submit became scrambled, because they were suddenly, well, kissing.

It’s impossible to say who initiated the gesture, nor does it matter. Honestly, what really matters is the fact that they finally acted upon the feelings they’d long believed were unrequited.

To be polite, it will go unrecorded how long they kissed. Eventually, each felt as though they might pass out from lack of air, or maybe from hormones, or even pure emotions. Ron realized he was pressing his gift into Hermione’s shoulders and backed away a bit. They were both dazed for a moment.

Ron smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt so he would have something to pin his eyes upon. He opened the chocolates and gave one to Hermione. They ate them in silence, both deciding chocolate frogs were the most delicious candies ever created.

Ron held up the shirt for both of them to admire. He pulled it towards himself and Hermione realized it really did look like a good fit.

He laid it over one arm as he gave Hermione another frog. “You know, this is the best present I’ve ever gotten,” he said, giving her a mischievous smile.

Hermione raised her brows and laughed. “Honestly, Ron, it’s just a shirt.” They both leaned in for another go at kissing; chocolate, shirts, and gifts were long forgotten.


: : : : :
A/N: Ron’s birthday is March first!