This Dance We Do

Chapter 12: Stella Luna

At that moment Hermione came back down the stairs, flushed and excited looking.

"Okay, I've just told Mum and Dad and they want to take us out for an early dinner to celebrate. So you two go upstairs and put on something nice so we can get going."

Harry sighed and heaved himself off the sofa. He walked up to Hermione, kissed her on the top of her head, then ruffled her hair.

"Congratulations, Hermione."

"Thanks."

Ron thought Hermione looked like she had been hit with an over zealous Cheering Charm. He stood up and walked over to her as well, but was not sure what to do. He knew what he wanted to do; drag her over to the sofa and snog her until they both started to stink so badly that they had to stop, but somehow Ron did not think that Hermione would go for that. Instead, he settled on tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He was amazed that even the skin on her neck, where he let his fingers linger shortly, was incredibly soft.

"You did great, Hermione. We all knew you would."

"Thanks. You did too, you know." She reached out and brushed a piece of lint off the front of his shirt, causing his entire body to tingle. She then reached up on tip toes and whispered in his ear, "I knew you would," before brushing her lips across his cheek and running up the stairs again.

Ron touched his cheek where Hermione had kissed him as he leaned against the wall. Twice...in one day. Ron blindly found his way up to the room that he and Harry shared, resembling someone who had recently been on the receiving end of an over zealous Cheering Charm himself.

Harry and Ron were lounging in the sitting room with Mr. Granger twenty minutes later waiting on Hermione and her mum.

"It's just one of those things about the Granger women," Mr. Granger was explaining. "On a normal day where they're just going to school or to work, it takes them maybe five minutes to get ready. But take them someplace that requires dressing up, and it will take them forever."

Ron checked his watch. He and Harry had finished getting ready a quarter of an hour ago, what was taking Hermione so long?

Five minutes later they were joined my Mrs. Granger, who looked very pretty indeed. She had swept her hair up off her neck and was wearing a long, flowing skirt that showed off her lovely ankles. Hermione's ankles, Ron thought.

"Sorry we took so long. Hermione wanted to look extra nice tonight." Was it his imagination, or did her gaze stay on him a second longer than normal?

Ron did not have time to contemplate the matter, however.

He saw her feet first. She was wearing the same delicate sandals that she had worn down to the swimming hole. He let his eyes travel up over her perfect ankles, up her slender calves to her knees, which Hermione always called knobbly, but that he loved. His eyes then came in contact with the soft pink fabric of her pleated skirt. It didn't have the pleats like the skirts she wore at school did, these were smaller, more feminine. His eyes rose, travelling the same route they did at the lake, but it did not matter to him. He took in her simple white shirt with its short sleeves and noticed that her hands were clasped nervously behind her back. Ron let his eyes wander up to her neck, where she wore a thin gold chain with a small locket suspended from it. She had managed to tame her hair enough to get it into a clip at the base of her neck, a feat that Ron knew was not easy.

Finally, Ron looked into Hermione's eyes, and was shocked to find that she was looking right at him. Ron blushed and looked away.

Great, he said to himself. Great, she saw you gawking at her like a right old idiot. Perfect.

"Are we ready to go?" Mr. Granger asked.

Ron stood up and filed out the front door with everyone else. When he got to the car he opened the door so that Hermione could get in before him.

"Thanks," she said, smiling and him and blushing slightly before she slid in next to Harry. Ron sat next to her and glanced over. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing a good portion of her thigh. Ron looked out the window as he felt his ears burn.

Several minutes later Mr. Granger pulled the car into the car park of an Italian restaurant called "Stella Luna." Ron instantly thought of Loony Luna and chuckled slightly.

Once inside the restaurant, after they had been shown to their table, Ron found himself pleasantly surprised. Hermione had chosen to sit next to Ron and across from Harry.

"It's nothing against you, Harry," she said as she reached out and touched his hand. "It's just," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "I thought it might be a good idea if someone were to help him order, since he's never been in a Muggle restaurant before."

"Uh huh." Once Hermione had turned away Harry waggled his eyebrows at Ron, causing Ron's glare to intensify.

Of course, she was only sitting next to him because she thought he could not handle himself in a restaurant, he should have figured. Ron looked down at his menu and growled softly in frustration. It was all written in Italian. He heard Hermione giggle softly and felt her lean closer to him.

"Do you want help?"

Ron tried to ignore how close their bodies were and focus on the fact that he was upset with her.

"No, I think I can manage perfectly fine by myself, thanks"

"Really? I didn't know you could read Italian." She was mocking him.

"Well, I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me." He, of course, did not know a word of Italian, but that was not the point.

"Like what?"

"Pardon?"

He turned to face her. Her eyebrows were arched and she was looking at him with an expression of mild amusement written on her face.

"I said, 'like what?'"

"Well..." Like I fancy you and I'd give anything for you to feel the same way for just one hour. "Um..." Like every evening that we spend in front of the fire in the common room it's everything I can do to keep from holding you. "Like, my middle name. You don't know my middle name."

Hermione's smile widened. She leaned forward in a conspiratorial fashion and whispered, "Bilius."

Ron felt his jaw drop. He could feel himself mouth soundlessly, but he did not know what to say. He had tried desperately to keep his middle name a secret; who would want it known?

"How...when..."

"Ginny."

Ron made a silent vow to kill his sister the next time he saw her.

"So, will you let me help you?" Hermione moved her chair closer to his, their knees brushing under the table. Ron nodded and Hermione leaned in closer to point to his menu, resting a hand on his leg for leverage.

As Hermione described what each item of the menu meant, Ron could do nothing but think about her hand. It was a few minutes before he realized that he should choose an entrée before the rest of the table noticed their closeness.

"That, I'll have that. Sounds good."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione was looking at him, her nose scrunched up in distaste - an expression that never failed to make Ron's throat tighten. He swallowed with some difficulty.

"Yup, I'm sure."

"Really, because I never would have thought you to be one to like squid."

It was Ron's turn to wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"Squid? There's squid in that?"

Hermione simply nodded. Ron pushed the menu towards her.

"You order for me. You've seen me eat enough; you know what I like. All this Italian's making my head spin." That was not all that was making his head spin.

"Are you sure?"

Ron nodded as he reached for his glass of water. He took a sip as he tried to clear his mind.

The waiter came by to take their orders a few minutes later. He was a tall young man, not much older than Ron, with shiny brown hair. He kept smiling and looking at Hermione in a way that Ron did not like. When he took Hermione's menu from her, Ron saw their fingers brush. He discretely moved his chair closer to Hermione's.

"I think that waiter might have been interested in you, dear," Mrs. Granger said from her end of the table. "He was fairly attractive, wasn't he?"

"You think so?" Hermione asked in a disinterested tone that made Ron's heart swell.

Not caring what message he sent or if anyone saw, he reached under the table and grabbed Hermione's hand, interlacing their fingers. Hermione looked at him and smiled softly before she squeezed his hand and reached for her glass of water.

Dinner was...interesting. Hermione did indeed know Ron's tastes, because she ordered him a large plate of pasta covered in a tasty sauce with several meatballs. The dinner would have been a very pleasurable experience, if the waiter would have just left them alone.

Ron was just exploring the top of Hermione's tiny foot with his own again (when dinner came they let go of each other's hands and started playing footsie instead) when the waiter came back for the twenty-third time that evening.

"Can I get you anything else this evening? Dessert? Coffee?"

"Hermione, do you want any dessert, since it's a special occasion and all?"

"Oh, what are you celebrating?"

"Well, Hermione here got a perfect score on her GCSEs."

The waiter let out a whistle similar to the one that Ron did when he first read her scores, then took their orders for dessert.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. "What are GC-whatevers?"

"GCSEs," Hermione whispered back. "They're the Muggle equivalent to the O.W.L.s."

Ron thought he had finally seen the last of the slimy git when they were leaving. He was holding the door for Hermione when the waiter came running up to them.

"Hermione, can I talk to you for a moment?"

She reluctantly went with him as he pulled her a few paces away where Ron could not hear their conversation. Ron moved a few steps closer so he could hear what the waiter was saying.

"I don't normally do this, but something is just telling me to, so I was wondering if I could have your phone number."

Ron clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. He was not exactly sure what this guy was talking about, but he could tell that it was another situation similar to the one that had happened with Krum. He could also tell that Hermoine was very uncomfortable; she kept shifting her weight and giving Ron pleading looks.

He summoned all his courage and walked forward. When he reached Hermione, Ron slipped his arms around her waist and put his head on her shoulder.

"You ready to go? I think your mum and dad are waiting for us."

Ron could feel Hermione relax against him.

"Jeremy, this is my," Hermione craned her head around and looked Ron in the eyes. There was a moment hesitation before she said, "My boyfriend, Ron. Ron, you remember Jeremy, he was our waiter this evening?"

Ron could have sworn that he heard choirs sing and crackers go off in celebration. Hermoine had called him her boyfriend. It had been a bold faced lie to get rid of Jeremy the git, but still...

Ron extended his hand to shake Jeremy's. Jeremy took it, but in a very stiff way.

"Your boyfriend. Yes, of course. I should have known. Well, it was very nice to meet you both. Next time you come back, make sure you ask for me, okay?"

Ron nodded before he guided Hermione out of the restaurant by the small of her back.

They arrived back at Hermione's house all very full and very tired. Mr. and Mrs. Granger wished everyone good night before they went up to their room.

"That was a nice place. We should go there again sometime, don't you think?" Harry asked as he scratched his head.

"I don't know, I wasn't very impressed," Hermione said, barely stifling a yawn.

"Well," Harry shrugged. "I'm going to bed. See you two tomorrow."

"Night," Ron and Hermione said in unison.

They were alone. Ron was not sure where he should put his hands to look casual, so he put them in his pockets.

"Thanks," Hermione said softly, turning to him. "I mean, for your help with Jeremy and all. I wasn't really sure what to say."

"Oh, no problem, really." Ron could feel his ears start to burn.

"And I'm sorry for saying that you were my boyfriend, I didn't mean to offend you or anything, I just wanted to... you know... find a way to--"

"Offend me?" Ron laughed. "You didn't offend me, I promise."

"Oh." Was he imagining it or was she blushing? "Right then. Well, thank you anyway. Um... well, good night."

"Night."

Ron followed her up the stairs and fell into his bed minutes later, thinking of all the contact he had had with Hermione over the course of the day. He closed his eyes, not bothering to think of Snape, but letting the images flow over him.