CHAPTER ONE
RESOLUTIONS


***RON***

Ron Weasley sat in the lumpy armchair his mother had given him with an old photo album in his lap. He glanced out the window. It was frosted up, but he could tell it was snowing outside. It had been for the past week straight.

Ron sighed deeply and listened to the utter silence all around him. Harry wasn’t home. He had left the pathetically small house that the two of them had bought together to house them while they attended Richmond Aurors’ Academy for Christmas, and Ron was completely alone. Well, almost. His owl, Pigwidegeon, sat perched in his cage, which Ron had set up on top of the mantle above the little fireplace. Normally, Pig would’ve been fluttering around, squawking and showing off, trying desperately to break free of the confining cage. But even the constantly hyper Pig was melancholy now. Hedwig, Harry’s snowy owl, had gone with him, and the weenie little owl had no one to annoy.

Ron turned his attention back to the photo album in his lap. He opened it to the front page. There, was an enchanted picture of everyone in Ron’s family. His kind mother, Molly Weasley, stood with her arms around Ron’s little sister Ginny, although she wasn’t so little anymore. She was going on twenty, exactly one year younger than Ron himself was. Next to them stood his jovial father, Arthur Weasley. He was attempting to scold two ornery-looking young men for giving him a prank wand instead of his real one, but it wasn’t working too well. He was laughing too hard. Those two young men were two of Ron’s older brothers and the only twins: Fred and George. Next to them stood Charlie, another of Ron’s brothers. He was laughing as a very tall young man with bright red hair and astonishingly blue eyes was been tackled and put into a head lock by a slightly older man with very long red hair that he wore in a ponytail and an earring with a fang on it. The blue-eyed man was Ron himself, and the one with long hair was Bill, the oldest of the Weasley children. Well, you could hardly call them children anymore. The last one was a tall, harsh-looking young man wearing Ministry robes and horn-rimmed galsses. He had his arms folded across his chest and seemed very upset. This was Percy. He and Mr. Weasley hadn't spoken in years, and it had taken a good bit of bribing just to get him to agree to a picture with the family.

Ron stared at his parents. He had been planning to go to the Burrow for Christmas and spend the holidays with them. But since they had decided to go to Egypt and visit Bill, who had just recently married, all of the other Weasleys had decided to celebrate Christmas separately and in their own way.

Ron turned the page. There, he saw a picture of Ginny wrapped in the arms of a tall, muscular boy with untidy black hair, green eyes, and thin, round spectacles. Harry Potter. They were laughing and smiling, and Harry leaned over and gave Ron's sister an affectionate peck on the cheek. She flushed bright red and kissed him full on the lips. It made Ron smile to see the two of them so happy, so wrapped up in each other.

This was where his roommate had gone. To visit Ron’s own sister for the holidays.

He turned the page again. There, he saw the picture he had been looking for. It was a picture of Ron’s other best friend, Hermione Granger. She had sent it to him some time last year when she told him that she would be taking up training to be a Muggle Liaison for the Ministry of Magic. God, she had changed a lot. And for the better, I might add.

Her long brown hair had gone from very bushy and curly to smooth, glossy, and wavy. It made her look more like woman and less like a girl. She had lost whatever baby fat she had to lose, and her teeth, now straighter and whiter than ever, showed when she smiled at him. It was a moving picture, of course, so Ron could see her hair blow in the wind and the autumn leaves in the picture swirl around her awesome body like an enchanted tornado. Her dark brown eyes sparkled happily and made Ron’s heart quicken, even if she wasn’t really here. God, she was beautiful.

Oh, how Ron wished he could be with her this Christmas. But she probably wouldn’t want to see him. After all, it had been almost three years since he and Harry had said good-bye to her at Kings Cross Station after their last year at Hogwarts together. She had probably forgotten all about him.

Here, sitting alone by the fire as the wind blew and the snow piled up around his little house, Ron couldn’t help regretting never telling Hermione his true feelings for her. He had always thought she was attractive, and had been infatuated with her since their second year at Hogwarts, but only he realized that he had really been in love with her in their fourth year. Ever since then, his every waking thought had been consumed with one aspect of her or another. Whether it be her appearance, her wit, or her intellect, she was always on his mind.

For a brief instant, Ron considered going to a Muggle pay phone and calling her at home (he was now pretty good at using a telephone), but he stopped himself.

“No way, Ron,” he said out loud to himself. “She probably has plans with her family. And she couldn’t possibly live with her parents anymore. You’re just upset because you’re all alone,” he rationalized. He had been talking to himself a lot lately.

“But what if she does live at home and she has no plans? It would be stupid to pass up the opportunity,” he considered. Ron started to get up from his chair, but he grabbed its arms and pulled himself back down. “No way. Too risky. You’d be making a fool out of yourself.” He looked at the picture again. Hermione waved at him and blushed furiously from the photo. His stomach did a flip-flop thing, and his heart jumped into his throat.

Torn between his two opposing emotions, he looked from the photo to the door, to where his coat and scarf hung, and then back at the photo. “Ron, this is the exact reason that you’re alone in the first place. If you hadn’t always been so scared of letting your feelings out, you and Hermione could be sitting on a couch in some little cottage sipping hot chocolate and deciding on baby names,” he told himself firmly. With unwavering resolute, Ron stood, picked up a Muggle coin from the table near the door, put on his coat and scarf, and grabbed the keys to his used Ford Taurus. He WOULD go to London and use a pay phone. He WOULD get Hermione to come for Christmas. And he WOULD tell her his feelings when she came.


Author’s Note: So, what do you think? Please go to the review boards and let me know. I do this for the feedback, so let me know! It means a lot! Thanks!

CHAPTER TWO
THE CALL

***RON***

There was a snooty, blonde-haired Muggle woman taking up the pay phone Ron wanted to use. She had been on it gabbing for the past twenty minutes.

“Oh, my god! OH, MY GOD, are you serious? No way! No bloody way!” she squealed for the millionth time. Ron was losing his patience. Without even thinking about it, he reached into his coat, poked the tip of his wand out of the coat and magically cut the call.

“Hello? Hello? Becky? Becky, are you there? Becky?” Miss Blonde pulled out another coin and put it in the phone. It wouldn’t work. Ron had to physically keep himself from smiling. She swore nastily, turned on her heel, and stormed away.

“Finally,” Ron muttered under his breath. Remembering his required course of Muggle Studies at Richmond’s, he listened for a dial tone, inserted his coin, and punched in the phone number to Hermione’s parents’ house.

It rang. No answer.

It rang again. Still no answer.

It rang once more. Ron’s heart quickened as he heard a faint click and a woman’s voice say, “Hello. Granger residence, Norma speaking.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. It was Hermione’s mum. At least he had gotten the number right.

“Yes, erm, hello, is Hermione there?” he asked hesitantly. “My name is Ron Weasley. We went to Hogwarts together.”

The tone of Norma’s voice told Ron that she was smiling. “Why, yes she is, Ron. She’ll be so excited that you called. Hold on just a minute, and I’ll put her on for you.” There a swishy noise as she pressed the receiver to her blouse. Ron could hear a muffled voice call, “HERMIONE! PICK UP! PHONE FOR YOU!”

“Who is it, Mum? I’m really busy!” cried an even more muffled voice. It was far away; that much was certain, but it made Ron’s palms sweat just the same. It was Hermione.


***HERMIONE***

Hermione brushed a lock of her dark brown hair out of her eyes and sighed. She was sprawled out on her stomach doing some of her holiday homework. Some things never change, she thought to herself.

“Who is it, Mum? I’m really busy!” she called back, not wanting to talk to whoever it was on the line.

“It’s Ron, honey! Ron Weasley! On the telephone!” her mum called back, an excited tone to her voice.

Hermione’s heart jumped into her throat, and her stomach did a little tumble thing. You know, like when you first get off of a roller coaster. Your stomach is all out of sorts, and your knees are weak, but you’re laughing your head off, begging to go again. This was how she felt at the mention of Ron Weasley’s name.

“Mum, really, don’t mess with me! Who is it?” she called back, certain that her mum was pulling her leg. Reluctantly, Hermione had told her mother about her feelings for her friend a few years ago. Her mum was probably just teasing her.

“Hermione, sweetie, I’m serious! Ron wants to talk to you!” called the voice of her mum. She drew in a sharp breath. It was true. Ron had called her. After three years of absolutely no contact, he was calling her at home! And on the TELEPNONE, no less!

“Ok-Okay, Mum! I got it up here!” Hermione rolled off her bed and picked up the receiver of her purple phone that she kept on her dresser. With a second thought, she put the receiver in the crook of her neck and cried to her mum, “Hang up, Mum! I’ve got it!” Her palms sweating, she put the receiver to her ear and said tentatively, “Hello?”


***RON***

“Hello?”

Ron swallowed quickly and said shakily, “Hey, Hermione! It’s Ron! Long time no see, eh?”

“Omigosh, Ron, hey! Wow, how are you? God, I haven’t talked to you in ages!” exclaimed the voice of Hermione happily. Oh, he loved the sound of her voice. He could listen to it for hours, forever.

“I know. Uh, so, how are you?” he managed to ask.

“Fair. Becoming a Muggle Liaison is a lot more complicated than it sounded in the brochure. It’s a good thing I know my Muggle Studies. I definitely need them, you know?” she chuckled lightly. Oh, he loved that laugh. That casual laugh that had had so many boys at Hogwarts secretly writing “I Love H.G.” on the inside covers of all of their notebooks. “How ‘bout you? How’s Auror school treating you? I heard both you and Harry are going to Richmond’s Academy. Good school,” she continued.

“Oh, it’s going fine. A lot harder than I thought it was going to be, though. Harry and I have loads of homework every night. He’s doing better at it than I am, though. Which is really surprising, because not only does he have homework to work on, but he also has to find time to take Ginny out on the weekends,” Ron said. It felt so good to be able to talk to her again, just like old times.

“Ginny? Really? Well, it’s about bloody time, if I do say,” said Hermione, now laughing whole-heartedly. Ron laughed, too.

“Yeah. It did take a while. But now that he’s with her, I give it…hmmm…about two months tops before he proposes to her,” he said playfully. She laughed.

“I can’t wait.” There was a pause for moment, and then Hermione said, “So, Ron, was there something you wanted? I mean, I really enjoy just talking to you, but, not to sound rude or anything, but I’m really busy here, so if there’s nothing in particular you wanted, I might have to call you back later when I’m finished with what I have to do now.” Right, Ron thought. Gotta get down to business. You can get reacquainted later.

“Well, yeah, there was, but I can wait if you’re too busy,” he babbled, not wanting to bother her.

“Oh, no, no. It’s fine. Really. What’d you want?” she insisted.

“Well, erm, my parents are going to visit Bill for Christmas, and Harry’s not home; he went to go stay with Ginny for Christmas, and…well, I’m, erm, all alone here, so I was wondering, maybe, if you didn’t have any other plans, if we could, I dunno, maybe get together some time. You know, just to get caught up and stuff. Thought it might…be nice.” Ron held his breath for her response. 'Please, please, please say yes!'


***HERMIONE***

Hermione blinked several times in surprise. Ron Weasley, the man she had loved since the very first time he had smiled at her, was all alone three days before Christmas Eve, with his family away and his roommate gone, and he could think of no other person better to spend Christmas with than her. She was touched.

“I mean…I understand if…you don’t want to or if you already have plans…” she heard Ron mumble through the phone. Hermione realized that she had taken too long to answer. Now he thought she didn’t want to come. She quickly cut him off.

“Oh, no. No, I’d…I’d love to come. You just…surprised me, that’s all. Of course I’ll come visit you for Christmas, Ron,” she said quickly. Her answer was greeted by a long pause.

“Really? You want to come?” he said after a while. Hermione smiled even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

“Yes, I do. Um, I need your address, though. So that I know where to Apparate to, you know,” she said, grabbing her notebook off of her bed and picking up a Muggle pen from her desk.

“Oh. Right. It’s, um, just a little house. Really little, actually. We could probably go somewhere else if you wanted,” Ron mumbled. Hermione could almost picture the Weasley embarrassment trademark, reddened ears, forming on him as he spoke to her. The thought made her heart flutter.

“Ron, it’s fine. I don’t mind. At least you have a house of your own. I board at my Liaison school, so I never really have the need for it. I only come home over holidays, so what’s the point? Just give me your address, and I’ll come over Christmas Eve. How’s that sound?” she insisted. She didn’t want Ron to be embarrassed by how small his house was. Money, or his lack of it, always had embarrassed him. But it really didn’t bother her.

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe we ought to do something else. Like…meet for dinner or something somewhere…” he dismissed.

“Ron,” Hermione said gently. “It’s all right. Honest. I don’t mind at all. No matter if you lived in a mansion or a run-down shack, I would still come and visit you for Christmas. As long as you’ll be there, I’ll be there. Okay?” There was a pause as Ron let Hermione’s words sink in.

“Oh, well…Okay, I guess. If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Ron said after a long period of time. Hermione’s grin widened.

“Just give me your address, Ron,” she said, feigning impatience.

“All right. Here goes. Number 7 Wiltshire Road, Godric’s Hollow. Got it?” She finished copying this down and answered yes.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you then. All right?” she said, anxious to get off the phone. She needed to do something, anything, to vent the excitement building up inside of her. “Okay. See you, Hermione.” His voice was shaky, as if he were feeling the exact same thing as her.

“Bye,” she said quickly. She hit the “End” button on the receiver of her telephone. Hastily, she put it back in the phone cradle, threw herself onto her bed, buried her face in a pillow, and let herself scream. She did this rather often. Her mum had taught her how when she was really little and threw temper tantrums. She called it an “emotional outlet”. Her emotion right now was excitement. Uncontrollable excitement.


***RON***

Ron hung up the phone with shaking hands. He wasn’t shaking with nervousness anymore. He was shaking with excitement.

Slowly, he backed away from the pay phone. He closed his eyes and let his emotions fill him.

“YES!” he cried out loud. Several Muggles looked at him strangely, but he didn’t care. Hermione was coming for Christmas, and he didn’t give a damn who knew it!

Author’s Note: REMEMBER TO REVIEW! OR YE SHALL FEEL
MY WRATH! MWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA! Sorry.
Feeling a bit evil today. LOL!

CHAPTER THREE
PREPARATIONS AND ARRIVALS

***HERMIONE***

“MUM!” Hermione ran to the top of the stairs and screamed down. She heard a crash and a bang from the kitchen followed by a little yelp. She had startled her mum. “OH, SORRY! I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU. I’M NOT GOING TO BE HERE CHRISTMAS EVE LIKE I SAID I WAS! OKAY?”

“Where you going, Hermione?” Norma Granger called back. “Ron’s?” she teased.

“YES, AS A MATTER OF FACT, I AM!” she cried back.

“Why, honey, that’s great! That’s just wonderful! Just wait till your father hears! Oh, he’ll be so pleased that you’re finally taking some time for yourself!” Hermione frowned angrily.


“Hey! What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” she cried in incredulous retort.

“HERMIONE! WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE! AND YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHAT THAT’S SUPPOSED TO MEAN! ALL YOU EVER DO IS ONE ESSAY OR ANOTHER, ONE RESEARCH REPORT OR ANOTHER! I WOULD LIKE A FEW GRANDCHILDREN BEFORE I LEAVE THIS EARTH, YOU KNOW!”

“MUM! That is NOT fare! Hell, I’m only twenty-one! Just barely old enough to get MARRIED, let alone provide you and dad with GRANDCHILDREN! I don’t even have a bloody boyfriend!”

“My point exactly! Now, go prepare yourself properly, and you may just have a BOYFRIEND by Christmas!” her mum called. It seemed like Norma wanted the conversation to be over, but Hermione wasn’t done.

“What do you mean, prepare myself properly?”

“You know. The steps to good luck: ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and sixpence in your shoe’. You want all those things, you get started now! Go on!” And that was it. There was finality in Norma’s tone that said that she was finished.

Hermione stood at the top of the stairs, considering what her mum had said. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and sixpence in your shoe.” Well, she obviously already had the something old, she’d need to buy the something new, she could borrow something from her mum or from a friend for the something borrowed, she surely would be able to find SOMETHING blue, and she already had sixpence. Still, her mum was right; she had to get started now if she wanted to be ready.

If Hermione were to be brutally honest, she would have told her mother to sod off and that the steps to good luck were just like the class Divination at Hogwarts: a load of rubbish. Superstition. Nothing more. But Hermione indulged her mother. She always had. Hermione didn’t have to believe in these things herself. Just as long as her mother was happy, she could suffer through it.


***RON***

Back at home, Ron stood at the door and looked around the shabby place. He hadn’t bothered to put up any Christmas decorations, because he hadn’t thought that anyone would be here but him, but without them, the house looked incredibly gaunt and melancholy. 'What will Hermione think, when she comes and sees absolutely nothing in this old house to even give the barest hint of Christmas cheer?' asked a voice that sounded strangely like Ron’s mother.

'Mum’s right. I gotta get a tree…and some stockings, that shouldn’t be hard…and maybe some garland for the mantel…and candles and a centerpiece for the table setting…God, I’ve gotta get to work!'


***HERMIONE***

By the time Christmas Eve had arrived, Hermione was physically prepared. She wore a silver snowflake pin on her scarf that had belonged to her grandmother: something old. She had gone out and bought herself a new sweater, and it killed two birds with one stone; it was made of rich, navy blue cashmere, and it was brand new. Therefore, something new, and something blue. She borrowed a sapphire-studded bracelet from one of her new school friends: something borrowed. And she was getting a bruise on the bottom of her foot from the sixpence she put inside her high black boots.

But even with all this “reassurance”, it didn’t help her emotionally. She held her wand shakily in her hand and Ron’s gift under her other arm, ready to Disapparate from her cozy childhood home and Apparate just outside Ron’s little house on Wiltshire Road.

God, she hoped she had done the right thing…


***RON***

Ron stood in front of the door, admiring his handiwork. Here, he could see the living room off to his right, the kitchen in front of him, and the dining room to his left. In three days, he had managed to turn his empty, gloomy house into a warm, glowing, comforting home.

In the corner of the living room stood a very tall blue spruce pine tree which had been laden with strung popcorn, glowing baubles in every shape, size, and color, and family photographs which Ron had turned into ornaments. On the coffee table were a pitcher of eggnog (complete with mulled mead, compliments of The Three Broomsticks), two crystal cups (fake, of course), and several white candles. A large fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and garland decorated the top of the mantel from which two large stockings hung. Mistletoe hung from the rafters just in front of the fireplace to finish off the merry room.

In the kitchen, garland laced with frosty red berries that glittered in the candlelight was draped from the pot rack above the island. Gleaming copper pots also hung strategically from the rack and caught the light of the fireplace.

The dining room was most likely the grandest of all. Ron had polished the old oak table, and it shone like new. It was laden with food that Ron had prepared himself (with his mother’s recipes and the help of magic, of course). A small but tender turkey sat on a silver platter (well, not really silver. Just a polished metal) in the middle of the table along with a few slender white candles; a huge bowl of garlic mashed potatoes was placed at one end with a green bean casserole at the other. Two places were set with glass plates, silver utensils (once again, fake), and a glass of red wine each (this was real. It had been a gift from the now Fred and George, who were now rather wealthy. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been a hit.).

Christmas jazz music wafted softly through the air, which smelled like evergreen.

The large clock above the mantel struck seven. Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong!

Nervously, Ron went from room to room making sure everything was perfect. She would be here any minute. He stood by the door, straightening his forest green jumper and flattening his bright red hair spastically.

'Relax. Everything’s fine. The house looks great.' Ron silently reassured himself.



***HERMIONE***

Hermione was standing on a dead-end road that was lined with many small, cheery, cottage-like houses and ended in a cal-de-sac. Each one had candles in the windows and wreaths on the doors. A thick blanket of white snow on the roofs and windowsills made them all look like gingerbread houses from a storybook. Audible Christmas music could be heard coming from almost every house.

Slowly, Hermione strolled down the street, looking at the brass numbers nailed to each house. 'Number 7…number 7…number7…where are you, Ronald Weasley?' She passed Number 4…Number 5…Number 6…The next one should be…Ah ha! Number 7, Wiltshire Road, Godric’s Hollow!

It sat at the very end of the road, directly in front of her. It was by far the smallest house on the street, but with the snow, candles, wreaths, and “Jingle Bells” drifting on the biting air from inside, it was also the merriest. With her hands shaking with more than just cold, she approached the house, climbed the steps onto the porch, and rang the doorbell…


***RON***

Ding dong ding dong! Ding dong ding dong! sang the doorbell. She was here!

Ron took a deep breath, looked quickly all round the house then calmly opened the front door. He had to remember to breathe.

Hermione looked stunning. She wore a dark brown coat with fur around the cuffs and collar, a navy blue knit scarf with a delicate silver snowflake pin on it, a navy cashmere jumper, snazzy hip-hugger jeans, and high black boots. Her dark brown hair was sprinkled with large snowflakes, and her doe-like eyes sparkled endlessly. She carried a package wrapped in red wrapping paper under her arm, and there was a huge grin on her face.

“Hermione,” he breathed. He didn’t know what else to say.


***HERMIONE***

“Hermione,” said Ron quietly with a rather stupid, open-mouthed look on his handsome, yes, handsome, face. Hermione was sure that she didn’t look much better herself.

God, he was good-looking now. He had grown several inches (again) and was now more than a head taller than her even though her heels were at least four inches high. He had also gained quite a bit of muscle, which was quite a change from the tall but very skinny boy she had known. His face wasn’t nearly as freckly as before, and she could swear he had a little five o’clock shadow. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his hair; it was still as red and as untidy as before.

“Ronald Weasley. Happy Christmas,” she said in return. A real smile broke out on his face. Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. Literally dropping his present, which didn’t do any harm she had put an anti-breaking charm on it, she squealed a little and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

“Hermione, my God, it’s great to see you!” he exclaimed, wrapping her in a big bear hug. The just stood like that, laughing and saying each other’s names over and over again until she felt a shiver run through him. “Hey,” he laughed, pulling back from her. “Come inside where it’s warm. It’s bloody freezing out there!” Ron picked up the present, pulled her inside, and shut the door quickly.

Hermione went right up to him and touched his face with the palm of her hand. “Oh, Merlin’s beard, look at you, Ron!” She laughed. “You’ve changed so much!” Then she touched his hair. “Well, except for this!” She ruffled the bright red strands.

“Hey, you, cut it out!” he laughed, batting her away playfully. “And you…what happened to the little girl with a frizz ball on her head and a smug grin on her face that so rudely pointed out that I had dirt on my nose?” He touched her hair, too, gently brushing away the snow she had accumulated outside. There was a mysterious gleam in his astonishingly blue eyes.

Hermione laughed like she hadn’t laughed in weeks. “She grew up, just like you.” She looked up, straight into his eyes. He looked down at her, the smile fading from his face. For a moment, she thought she could detect a look of longing in those eyes, a look of intense desire, but it was gone as soon as it had come. Surely it had just been her imagination. Right?

Ron suddenly drew back an inch and cleared his throat. “So, erm, can I take your coat?” he asked, sounding much more nervous than he had a moment before.

Hermione blinked several times but managed a smile. “Uh, sure. Here.” She unbuttoned her coat and turned around. When she felt his hands brush her shoulders for a brief instant as he removed the coat, she realized that he was shaking. Must be cold or something, she assumed, wanting to dismiss this observation as soon as possible. Hastily, she pulled off her scarf and hung it over the coat rack next to the door.

“That’s a lovely pin, Hermione,” Ron said, looking at it closer. “My grandmum had one sort of like it when she was alive. She left it to her sister, my grandaunt, I guess you could say. Must be really old,” he noted, appraising the pin.

“Oh. Thank you. Yeah, it was my grandmum’s. I thought it was pretty,” she mumbled. Then she noticed the house.


***RON***

Ron watched as Hermione’s beautiful eyes lit up suddenly. A grin spread slowly across her face. She was looking right at the living room.

“Oh…Ron, look at it! Oh, it’s beautiful!” she breathed, walking slowly into the room. She went right up to the tree and started examining the ornaments in delight. “Oh! It’s out first year at Hogwarts! Damn, my hair was dreadful!” She was pointing at a clay wreath ornament that Ron had made himself. In the center was a moving photograph of her, himself, and Harry. She was right about her hair. As she had gotten older, it had slowly tamed down, but in this picture, it made up at least three quarters of her entire head!

“Yeah. But those were the days, huh? No one was greener than the three of us were, and you know what they say: ‘Innocence is bliss’,” Ron noted, also gazing at the picture. He was standing right behind her, looking over her shoulder. His body couldn’t have been more than an inch away from hers. There was an intoxicating scent wafting about her…a fruity musk…not heavy, but clean and sensual. Then it hit him; it was the perfume Ron had gotten her for Christmas in their fifth year! She still had it? Was that a good sign?

Still, he mentally patted himself on the back for picking out a good scent.

“You’re so beautiful, ‘Mione…” he thought. She whirled around.

“What?” Ron stepped back a full step, completely embarrassed. He hadn’t thought. He had spoken aloud!

“I said…erm… the picture’s so beautiful, ‘Mione,” he said quickly. She frowned for a moment, but then she smiled.

“Yeah. It is,” she said. Hermione pause for a moment, looking around. “Oh, Ron, the dining room!” she squealed, heading for the dining room.

“Oh, wow, Ron, did you do ALL of this? All by YOURSELF?” Hermione marveled over the food.

“Yeah. Well, I had my mum’s recipes and my trusty wand, of course, but otherwise, yeah. I did…” He opened his arms wide and walked slowly in a circle, gesturing to all of the magnificent decorations. “All of this. In three days.” She looked at him with wide, adoring eyes. “Two for the tree and decorations. One for the food.” Then he added much more quietly, as his ears turned bright red, “All for you.” She cocked her head and looked at him, a little smile on her face.

“Ron, this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she said quietly. This time, the hug he received from her wasn’t one of excitement, but one of warmth. She wrapped her arms slowly around his neck and pulled him close. He hugged her back, drinking in her closeness. God, she DID smell good. He allowed himself to press he face ever so gently into her hair and take it in.


***HERMIONE***

First Person POV

If I had to choose one way to spend eternity, it would be in Ronald Weasley’s arms. He felt warm and strong when he let me hug him, and there, wrapped in his tight embrace, I felt completely safe. Never again would a thought of how Lord Voldemort had tortured Harry, Ron, and myself before Harry had managed to defeat him enter my mind if I were to stay in his arms.

He smelled good to me… It was like…the essence of his soul only in the form of a scent. I know, you’re thinking, “She’s a little off her rocker”, but there was no other way to describe it.

I could feel his face in my fair. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, actually just the opposite, but I DID want to eat sometime that night, and I knew that if he stayed this close to me for much longer, neither of us would be eating anything anytime soon. So I retracted an inch, and he took the hint, so he removed himself from me. I felt the safeness melt away, and I felt cold and lonesome without it, but I held my ground.

Dear Merlin, why did he have to have this affect on me? Why?


***RON***

First Person POV

Hermione was pulling back from me. Oh, no. What did I do? Had I been too forward with her? Did she not feel the same way about me as I did about her? Was I going too fast?

I removed myself from her reluctantly but still rather hurriedly. If she didn’t want me that close, than I had to distance myself quickly before I ruined her whole evening.

I looked down at her. Her delicate cheeks sported a rosy, romantic blush, and her full, pink lips revealed a very, very shy smile. It was barely even there, but Ron had become an expert at reading her facial expressions over the years, and she was indeed smiling.

God, she was stunning.

'Wait,' I thought. 'If she’s smiling, then maybe she DIDN’T want me to pull away. Maybe she was just moving.' I sighed audibly. 'Girls are so complicated. No wonder I never had a steady girlfriend like all my mates at Hogwarts. I don’t think I could have taken the stress. '


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Author’s Note: I know, I know. Long chapter. But it didn’t feel right to break it up. Then the chapters would be short. ANYWAY, REVIEW! I got lots of responses when I THREATENED you last time, so I say again, REVIEW, OR YE SHALL FEEL MY WRATH! Sorry. Being evil always works.

CHAPTER FOUR
DRINKING TO A HAPPY CHRISTMAS

***HERMIONE***

The moment was getting very awkward. Hermione decided to turn away from Ron’s gaze. His eyes had gotten that strange look to them again, and for some reason, this made her uncomfortable.

“Well, erm…” she stammered, feeling even more awkward. “Shall we eat now? I must say, I’m quite famished. Haven’t eaten anything since dinner yesterday.” Hermione walked into the dining room and looked at each place setting. “Where do you want to sit? It doesn’t matter to me, really.”

Ron came over to where she stood and spoke to her back, “What do you mean, you haven’t eaten since dinner yesterday? That’s not healthy, ‘Mione. It’s a good thing my mum’s not here right now, or you’d be getting a right earful from her,” he joked. He sounded as if he was trying to hide real concern with that joke.

Hermione waved it away. “Rubbish. I was busy, and I didn’t have time,” she said, dismissing the fact. He came around so that she was facing him and touched her arm.

“What, exactly, was so important that you couldn’t take…what? Fifteen? Twenty minutes to get yourself something decent to eat?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Schoolwork. Wanted to get it out of the way, you know. So I’d have the rest of the holiday to myself,” she stated matter-of-factly, looking him in the eye. Ron sighed and shook his head, laughing. “What are you on about? For you information, I had loads of homework assigned to me for over the holiday, and thanks to my meal skipping, I’m now more than half-way done!” she said incredulously.

“Same old Hermione. Always doing her homework before she needs to. Will you ever change?” he chuckled. She looked back up at him and contemplated arguing, but she really didn’t want to start a row now. Not on Christmas Eve.

“Guess not.” Ron seemed shocked by her lack of retaliation, but decided not to say anything. After a few moments of heavy silence, Hermione took it upon herself to break it.

“Come on. I’m starved,” she said cheerfully, grabbing Ron’s hand and pulling him farther into the dining room. She pulled her wand out of the back pocket of her jeans and began to magically slice the turkey. “About how much do you want, Ron?” she asked. He grabbed her wand hand and lowered it.


***RON***

“Oh, no. No, I’ll get it. Really,” Ron babbled, ushering Hermione to the seat at the far-right end of the magically lengthened table. Using his wand, he pulled out her chair, sat her down in it, and then pushed her back in. He had been practicing this particular maneuver earlier this morning with a large doll while the turkey had been cooking, and he was now pretty good at playing host. His need to impress Hermione was now out-weighing his need for secrecy when it came to his feelings.

“Ron, I’m not helpless, you know. I’m perfectly capable of serving my host some turkey. After all, it’s the least I can do. You’ve done all this for me, and, well, I can’t lie. I do feel a bit uncomfortable accepting all of this. Now, I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate it, but…I’d feel better if I had something to do,” Hermione insisted.

“Rubbish. In the words of my mum, ‘you’re the guest’,” Ron said, picking up where she had left off in cutting the turkey. “Now, how much?” he asked, indicating the turkey with the tip of his wand.

“Oh, fine, looks like I’ll never win…three slices should do it,” she replied exasperatedly. She sighed while levitating the serving spoon for the garlic mashed potatoes over to her and heaping some onto her plate.

Ron muttered, “Wengardium Leviosa.” Three neat slices of white turkey breast floated over to Hermione’s plate and nestled themselves next to the mashed potatoes.

“Green bean casserole?” he offered.

“Oh, yes, please. I LOVE your mum’s green bean casserole!” She nodded enthusiastically. With the flick of his wand, Ron made a nice-sized serving of the dish disappear from the baking crock and reappear on her plate.

“Got everything you need?” he asked, making his way toward the other end of the table. Hermione nodded.

“Yes. You’ve been quite accommodating, Ron. I must say, I am quite impressed,” she said, looking at him appraisingly. At that very moment, Ron’s stomach gave a loud rumble. Hermione giggled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his ears as red as his hair. “I’m, er, kind of hungry myself.” She giggled again.

“Go ahead and serve yourself, Ron. I’m perfectly fine here. Everything looks delicious.” He shot her a grateful look and heaped food onto his own plate.

“Same old Ron,” she commented with a chuckle as she cut her turkey into neat little pieces. “Always thinking about food. Will YOU ever change?”

“Looks like neither of us will, eh?” Ron sat down and took a sip of his wine before tucking into his food.

“Red wine?” Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you drank wine, Ron. Since when?”

“Oh. I don’t usually. Just on special occasions. That’s all,” Ron replied between bites of potato.

Hermione cast him a reproachful look, but then shrugged, muttered something about “When in Rome…” and then raised her own wineglass. “To a Happy Christmas with long-lost friends,” she toasted. Ron smiled and raised his glass also.

“I’ll drink to that,” he said. “Cheers.” Both took sips from their glasses and then began to tuck into their food, chatting all the while.

After both of them were full from the food and flushed and giddy from the wine, they both stood and muttered, “Scourgify” while flicking their wands at the table. Instantly, the leftover food was in containers, the dishes were sparkling and stacked together, and the utensils were sorted into groups according to type (fork, knife, spoon, etc.).

Ron gestured for Hermione to come into the living room. He pulled out his wand, muttered, “Accio Present”, and caught a square, thin black box that zoomed out from underneath the Christmas tree. He sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside him, indicating for her to sit with him. She did, looking very excited.

Ron swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He handed her the box. ‘Please, please, please, PLEASE let her like it…’

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Author’s Note: I think you should know the drill by now…REVIEW!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY RELATED CHARACTERS OR IDEAS. THE ONLY THING I OWN IS THIS STORYLINE. BUT, HEY, I CAN DREAM, CAN’T I?

Author’s Note: First off, I am SO sorry it took me so long to update! First, the Tuscarawas River flooded, and we had to evacuate to my grandma’s house, and I was computer-less for a week. And then my mom to our computer tower to work to have it upgraded, and that to at least a week. So I’m sorry. Okay, here we go…final chapter *tears*…drum roll, please…lol!

CHAPTER FIVE
MISTLETOE AND A DIRTY NOSE
THE FINAL CHAPTER

***HERMIONE***

First Person POV

I looked from the black box, to Ron, and then back at the box before taking it from him. Slowly, I opened it. I had to remember to breathe when I saw what was inside.

It was a flat, disk-shaped, glass, Christmas tree ornament. It was probably about four or five inches in diameter. The glass was frosted around the edges, but in the center, it was completely clear, as if there wasn’t anything there. In that clear area was embedded an enchanted photograph. It was of Ron and me on Graduation Day at Hogwarts three years ago. I smiled at the memory.

Mrs. Weasley had taken the photo. I was standing posed next to him, and his arm was around me. You know how you put your arm around the person you’re next to for a picture. Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean you FEEL any affection or anything for the person. You just do that.

We both wore our long, black Hogwarts robes and a black, pointed hat with the year we graduated embroidered on it. My gold and scarlet Head Girl badge gleamed in the bright sunlight, and his Head Boy badge did the same.

Since the picture was moving, I could see our robes and hair getting blown around by the wind. Then my hat blew off. I watched myself jump into the air to try and catch it, but Ron got to it first. The me in the picture scolded him soundlessly, but he held it up out of my reach just the same. I jumped for it. He held it higher. I slapped his chest. He laughed and put it back on me crooked. I set it right then smiled and hugged him. He did the same. Then the scene started all over again.

Suddenly, I noticed a droplet of water on the ornament. I wiped it away, but I realized that it wasn’t just any water. It was a tear. From my eyes.

I was crying.

I sniffled quietly and wiped my face as quickly as I could. I didn’t want Ron to see me like this.

Too late.

“‘Mione?” Ron asked tenderly. “You all right?” He reached over and touched my hand with his. His sizable hand was callused and rough. I could tell that Auror training was a lot more difficult than it sounded.

I looked up at him and smiled wetly. “Ron, this is beautiful. Really…” I breathed a shuddering sigh. “Really beautiful,” I finished. “You know, I…I lost the copy of this picture your mum gave me. Now I don’t need it.” I leaned over, and, without even thinking, I planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered, my face reddening.

“You’re welcome,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze and then letting go.

I grinned. Time for MY present.


***RON***

First Person POV

Hermione was crying. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. What…what had I done? I thought she would love the ornament.

With every tear that fell from her glistening eyes and rolled down her delicate cheeks, it felt as though a piece of my heart was being torn away.

Without even thinking before I acted, I reached out and held her hand. It was soft and smooth and much smaller than I had always thought it would be. “‘Mione? You all right?” I asked gently, afraid to say anything.

She looked up at me and smiled softly. “Ron, this is beautiful. Really…” She breathed a pitiful sigh that shook her shoulders. “Really beautiful.” She paused for a moment as she collected herself. “You know, I…I lost the copy of this picture your mum gave me. Now I don’t need it.”

Suddenly, without warning, Hermione leaned over and kissed my cheek softly. It felt amazing. It was as if the entire world was spinning around and around and then suddenly melted away. We were the only people who existed. We were the only people who were real. She only stayed there for a fraction of a second, but it felt like an eternity.

“Thank you,” she whispered in my ear.

I was breathless for a moment, but somehow, I managed to utter the words, “You’re welcome.” I felt my ears get hot. They were going to turn red if I didn’t let go of her hand. So I squeezed it once more then let go. I thought I could detect her face fall, but surely it was just my imagination.

Then, Hermione suddenly grinned brilliantly. “All right. My turn,” she said, her cheeks flushed from the wine and the excitement of gift-giving. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at the gift on the table by the door, and said, “Accio Present!” The large box that was wrapped in red paper and decorated with a green bow zoomed from the entranceway to the living room and into Hermione’s waiting hands.

“Here. Happy Christmas, Ron. Hope you like it,” she said excitedly, handing me the present. I smiled and took it from her.

Slowly, I ripped the wrapping paper. My tears were neat and straight. I was hoping to save the paper so that maybe, one day, I could use it to re-wrap a present for her. It would be such a sweet thing to do, and she would love it. Girls love all that sentimental rubbish, you know.

“Oh, come on, Ron! We’re not going to save the bloody paper, you know!” Hermione cried suddenly, startling me. “Come on! The suspense is killing me!”

I looked up at her to see her hands clasped together tightly. She was grinning and holding them up in front of her mouth as if she were silently praying that I would love what she got me as much as she loved what I got her.

I sped up my tearing, dismissing the idea of saving the paper. It was a plain box. I opened the box. A grin broke out wide on my face when I saw what it was.

It was loads of Chocolate Frogs!

“‘Mione?! Chocolate Frogs!” I exclaimed, removing one and turning it over in my palm.

“You still like them? Oh, I was hoping they were still your favorite! Just like Hogwarts days?” Hermione said excitedly. My grin grew wider.

“Still like them? Hermione, I LOVE CHOCOLATE FROGS! Always have!” I was about ready to thank her when she said:

“Take those out! There’s something underneath there!” I did as she said. Underneath the pile of candy was another box. This one was heavy. Very heavy.

“Let’s not wait for the bloody grass to grow! Come on!”

I stared at her for a second before I opened the box with shaking hands. Soft, squishy, packing peanuts exploded in my face.

“Sorry. I think I overdid it a bit on the peanuts,” Hermione mumbled apologetically. I laughed and brushed them away.

Not caring that peanuts were getting all over my clean floor, I proceeded to dig through the peanuts in the box to get at my present.

Something inside caught the light of the fire. I reached in and pulled it out.

It was an enormous crystal snow globe. The base was brass and molded into amazingly complex and detailed scenes of snow-covered landscapes, and the globe itself was of the clearest crystal. Inside was a miniature Quidditch pitch only it was covered in a thick blanket of fake snow that floated in the liquid of the globe. I turned it over with my hands, and when I put it right side up again, the snow was falling and swirling from every direction, once again coating the Quidditch pitch.

Then, suddenly, I saw three tiny figures walk out onto the pitch. Two teenage boys and a girl about the same age. Both boys had brooms. The boy with the untidy black hair mounted his sleek, expensive broom and took off, casing a Snitch that couldn’t be any larger than the head of a pin. The other boy, the one with bright red hair, snatched a minuscule red ball from the girl, threw it up in the air, and then quickly mounted his broom, soared up into the air, and caught the ball before it came back down. The girl, who had curly brown hair, just stood and watched the two boys play.

Soon, however, the boy with the black hair landed, waved good-bye to the other boy and the girl, and walked out of the picture. I watched as the redhead landed and began a snowball fight with the girl. Little miniature squeals and high-pitched laughter could be heard from inside the globe.

As this heart-warming scene played out before me, I realized something. This was familiar…where had I seen this scene before?

Then it hit me. I was the redheaded boy! Hermione was the girl with curly brown hair! And Harry was the boy with black hair! No wonder this scene was familiar! I had taken part in it!

“Hermione! Is that…” I stammered, grinning broadly.

“Uh huh! Do you recognize it? That was Christmas Day, our seventh year at Hogwarts! Remember? We stayed out there for hours, throwing snow at each other. And Harry got all worried…” I cut her off.

“So he came out onto the Quidditch Pitch with half the staff of Hogwarts…”

“Including Professor Dumbledore!” we said together. We laughed for a full three minutes.

“Yeah. I remember,” I said, recalling everything like it was yesterday and not three years ago.

“Do you remember that I kicked your ass in that snowball fight?” Hermione said, punching my arm playfully and grinning wickedly. I laughed.

“Did you, now? See, the fact that I knocked you over and shoved snow in your face kind of gave me the impression that I kicked YOUR ass that day,” I said, returning her wicked smile.

She scooted closer to me on the couch. Her leg was now pressed up against mine. The contact caused little electrical shocks to be sent through my body and brought heat to my face. Her presence was far more intoxicating than any drink could ever be.

“You want some eggnog?” I caught myself asking.

“Sure.” She picked up a cup, and I got the pitcher and poured her some. She took a sip of hers as I poured myself some. “Ron, this is probably the best eggnog I’ve ever had. Store-bought or homemade?” she asked, taking a larger gulp. Her face flushed as she did so. She’s getting drunk, I realized. I took a drink of mine. It was creamy with a dull warmth to it that I was sure was the mulled mead. And so am I, I thought.

“Homemade, of course,” I said with a cocky flare. I took another drink, larger than the first.

I looked over at her out of the corner of my eye. This would be the perfect time to tell her how I felt. I NEEDED to get my emotions out in the open. She NEEDED to know how I felt. If she rejected me, then I would get over her. If she didn’t, I’d be happier than I ever had been before.


***HERMIONE***

First Person POV

Twenty minutes later, each of us were nursing our third cup of eggnog and completely drunk.

I looked Ron over, allowing myself to think whatever it was I felt like thinking. I watched as he tossed his head to the side, flipping his longish red hair out of his eyes. His handsome face was flushed, and his brilliant blue eyes sparkled merrily. Quickly, his tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips, which were beginning to crack from smiling so much. This simple action was mesmerizing to me, and I don’t think that was the just the mulled mead and the wine talking.

If I hadn’t been in love with him before, I certainly was now.

He saw me staring at him. I quickly looked away, allowing my eyes to travel around the room, until they rested on the mantel. It’s so empty, I thought. His snow globe would look great up there.

“Hey, Ron, wanna put your snow globe up there?” I inclined my head toward the mantel. He nodded, picked up the snow globe, and stood. I stood with him.

He crossed over to the fireplace in two easy strides. I swayed a bit when I first stood up, and my legs aren’t nearly as long as his, so by the time I got there, he had already placed it in the very center of the mantelpiece.

“It’s brilliant, Ron. Absolutely brilliant,” I said, my voice much firmer and clearer than I thought it was going to be. I had to admit; I WAS beginning to feel a little thickheaded.


***RON***

‘Now or never,’ I thought to myself. ‘Just tell her. Flat out.’ I took a deep, steadying breath and looked at her.


***HERMIONE***

Ron turned and looked at me. I could see that look in his eyes again, and this time, he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“YOU’RE brilliant, ‘Mione,” he said, his voice quiet and husky. I blinked a few times, not sure if what he had just said was real or just a result of the mead.

“What?” I said. Then something caught my eye. I looked up at the ceiling to see what it was. My heart jumped into my throat. We were standing exactly under a blossoming sprig of mistletoe.

I looked back at him. “I said you’re amazing,” he repeated. In an action that caught me off guard, he reached out with a rough and callused hand and caressed my cheek. It scared me how much tenderness was in that simple touch. It felt amazing to have him so near to me. He shifted even closer, and I didn’t back away.

“Do you mean that…Ronald Weasley?” I stammered, my voice coming out as barely a whisper. He leaned his face down closer to mine, his hand never leaving my face.

“I do…Hermione Granger,” he whispered in reply. With that, he wrapped his strong, muscular arms around me, drew me closer, and grazed my lips with his. He stayed there for only a second, each of us savoring the feel of the other, and then he pulled back.

My gaze locked with his, my chest rising and falling very quickly. The kiss may not have been very exerting, but the amount of love and tenderness that filled that kiss certainly did take my breath away.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Ron breathed, grinning widely. I smiled.

“Ron, don’t swear when you kiss me. It shatters the mood,” I scolded, and with that, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him again. After about a full minute, I pulled away and examined him for a moment.

His soft lips were red and puffy from the kiss, and his face was flushed from the lack of oxygen and the alcohol. He was looking down at me, words apparently failing him.

I decided to help him. “Ron,” I managed. If hadn’t been a mere three inches away from me, he wouldn’t have heard me; I was so quiet. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I told you that you had dirt on your nose.” Several emotions flashed across his face in an instant. First, relief. Then, excitement. Then, happiness. And last, amusement. I gave him a strange look. Why would my confession of love amuse him?

“‘Mione…” he laughed. “I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

“Oh? And what does that mean?” I asked incredulously, raising my eyebrows in question. Without saying anything at first, Ron reached for my face and began to rub the side of my nose with his thumb.

“YOU have dirt on your nose, ‘Mione!” he said, laughing.

“What?” I exclaimed, beginning to rub the spot, too. “Where the hell from?”

“I dunno. Maybe from the mantel. I might have knocked some down when I put the snow globe up there,” he guessed. “There. Got it.” He dropped his hand.

Realizing something, I looked up him. “You never answered me, Ron.”

“Huh?”

“When I said I loved you, you never answered me.” He smiled gently at me then and took my hand in both of his.

“Hermione, I have loved you since the first time I saw you,” he said. He brought my hand up to his face and kissed it. I blushed, but he didn’t. He HAD grown up.

Still smiling, he leaned down and kissed me slowly. It was gentle and warm, and it told me that he would always protect me, would always be there for me, and would always love me the way he did now. His love for me was stronger than life itself; this I could tell from that kiss.

The clock above the mantel struck midnight as we kissed.

He pulled away, and then he whispered, “Happy Christmas, Hermione Granger.”

“Happy Christmas, Ronald Weasley,” I replied. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, and when he wrapped his arms around me, I felt exactly how I had always imagined I would feel in the arms of the man I love: completely and utterly safe.



The End



Author’s Note: AH, THE POWER OF FLUFF! Anyhow, like the ending? Tell me. REVIEW! Also, I’m concentrating everything I’ve got on this new fic that one of my friends (I named the owl in the story after her as a thank-you) gave me the idea for. It’s called “Nursing Tonks”, and it’s a Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks pairing. I’m not very far with it yet, but I do know that it’s definitely going to be more professional and less fluffy than this one was. It’s got a bit of angst, a bit of darkness, and, of course, quite a lot of romance. So if you liked this fic, check it out!


Good-bye for now!

hpgurl2121