Checkmate

Ron Weasley was all out of sorts, and the only person he could blame it on was one Hermione Granger.

Valentine's Day had dawned on a wet and shivering Hogwarts, a raging storm pouring down icy sheets of rain without any sign of letting up. Hogsmeade was clearly out of the question, as no one wanted to venture outside for fear of floating away. No one wanted to be in the Gryffindor Common Room, either, for fear of much worse things.

Harry was nowhere to be seen, and it was no surprise to Ron, really. He and Hermione were in the middle of a vicious row and Harry obviously enjoyed still being the Boy Who Lived, rather than the Boy Who Died in the Middle of One of Hermione's Bossy Boots Tantrums.

"Honestly, Ron, I can't BELIEVE you."

"Hermione, come on! You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being RIDICULOUS? Better ridiculous, I suppose, than an insensitive prat!"

"'Mione, all I said was 'Have you any Valentine's from anyone today?' and suddenly you were in a flying rage! Harry asked Ginny the same thing and she didn't go off all barking mad!"

"Like I said, Ronald Weasley, you are an insensitive PRAT!"

"Better an insensitive prat than a BARKING LUNATIC!"

"HONESTLY!"

Ron stared at Hermione, who had been yelling at him for the better part of a quarter hour. She looked as she normally did when she was angry--eyes snapping, cheeks flushed a dark rose, lips parted with the most adorable indignant expression. But there was something about her eyes that Ron was not used to seeing from the always-stoic Miss Hermione Granger. Was she...crying?

He felt instantly contrite, the tips of his ears reddening in shame. She WAS crying, and it was his fault. His tune changed on a dime.

"'Mione, I'm sorry, honest I am. I didn't mean to--I'm sorry...Please don't cry!"

He awkwardly gathered her shoulders towards him with one arm, holding her as if he were unsure how they were supposed to fit together. Hermione solved that problem for him by melting against his chest and letting loose a torrent of tears into his shoulder. Ron jumped, startled by the first choking sob, and tightened his arms around her impulsively. He had never seen Hermione like this before, and he definitely did not like it. It made him feel even more out of sorts than when they were fighting and he ran into that split second when he was certain that she would never make up with him again.

"Shhh, don't cry, Mione. I'm sorry I'm such a prat." His lips just brushed the shell of her ear and he could have sworn he felt her shiver. Certainly it was just the force of her crying that made her body shake against his.

"Mrphrbleprt," she mumbled against his sweater. He tucked a stray curl out of her eyes and loosened his hold on her just a little.

"What was that?" he asked. "I'm not sure I heard you right."

"I said, inSUFFERABLE prat."

Despite himself, Ron chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I am, aren't I? Making girls cry."

Hermione tried to hide a small smile. "You most certainly are, Ron Weasley. And a right dense one, as well."

It was Ron's turn to look indignant. Who was she calling dense? Just because she was the most brilliant witch in their year didn't give her the right to...

...why was she looking at him that way? Hermione was supposed to glare at him or laugh with him or roll her eyes at him, not look up at him from underneath a fringe of thick lashes. She was certainly not supposed to look like he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, which he suddenly wanted to do very much.

"Dense, am I?" His voice felt choked and tight. "What exactly am I being dense about?"

"Valentine's Day, of course." A small measure of Hermione's normal self had returned. "You have been an insufferably dense and insensitive prat all day, as I believe I have mentioned."

"What about Valentine's Day?" he asked crossly, not really paying much attention to her words, as all his focus was centered on the softness of her lips and the way they parted just so.

Hermione sighed deeply. "I asked you to go to Hogsmeade, you giant git."

Ron shrugged, trying not to reach out and trace a finger down the curve of Hermione's cheek. "So? You always ask me and Harry to go to Hogsmeade. It's just too rainy to go today, unless you want to hitch a ride into town on the giant squid." What was wrong with him? He was usually able to ignore the beating of his heart but at the moment it felt far too big for his chest.

Hermione sighed again, tears fighting their way back to her eyes. Ron really was even more clueless than Ginny had said. She had been forward and honest and he still didn't quite get it.

"But I didn't ask Harry, Ron. I just asked you."

Ron felt all the blood drain from his face to concentrate in the very tips of his ears. Oh, dear Lord, she was RIGHT. He hadn't even realized that the thing he'd been thinking about since the Yule Ball in fourth year had happened. HE was the barking lunatic, not Hermione.

He floated back to Earth to find Hermione beet red and babbling, words like "friendship" and "attraction" and "stupid" and "sorry" coming out of her mouth in an unintelligible stream.

"Hermione!" He shook her shoulders gently and she stopped talking, but he could still see everything she was saying in her eyes as the last few days all snapped into place.

Ron, will you go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday?

Sure Hermione, I need to go to Zonko's anyway. We'll have a butterbeer after.

She had looked red-faced, and she had looked pleased, but he had ignored both those things and went on playing chess with Harry, who had looked stoic and...smug? Ron decided he might have to have a talk with him later.

"Hermione, are you saying that you were...asking me out on a date?" Ron's voice shook, jumping from octave to octave as he struggled to contain the emotions currently running through his veins like firewhiskey. Elation and surprise and shock and fear were the most curious combination.

"Y-yes, Ron. If you like," stammered Hermione.

I just made Hermione stammer, he thought to himself. Merlin's Ghost.

Without answering her, Ron turned away from Hermione and began to rummage in his pack for something he had tucked away months ago, forever meaning to gift it for Christmas or birthday but never quite feeling brave enough to go through with it.

When he turned back, Hermione's face was as predictable as the ending to Hogwarts: A History. She was scared and hopeful and even a little happy, just like he was. And she was waiting. For him. At long last.

He shoved the crudely wrapped package into her hands, unable to meet her eyes.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione."

She opened the box carefully, folding the tissue back to reveal a tiny pendant on a fine silver chain. It was a delicately detailed castle, a perfect chess miniature. Hermione's breath caught as she looped it carefully through her fingers.

"Ron...I...It's beautiful," she whispered, not trusting her voice.

"It reminded me of you," he answered. "We were in Diagon Alley, and it caught my eye. That night...you were so brave. And strong, like always. I couldn't have done it without you."

He spoke of the chess game so long ago, when they had helped Harry on his journey to the Philosopher's Stone, when he had sacrificed himself to save Harry and to save her.

Hermione fumbled with the catch on the necklace, reaching beneath her bushy curls to clasp it around her throat. Her heart stopped briefly when she felt Ron's warm hands close over hers.

"Let me," he said gruffly. He pushed her hair away from her neck and fastened the catch on the chain, letting the pendant nestle into the hollow of her neck.

Her hand fluttered up to touch it, her cheeks uncomfortably warm and her stomach feeling all fuzzy. "It's lovely, Ron."

"Um, well, I'm glad. That you like it, I mean. I wasn't sure."

"How long have you had this, Ron?" She asked him. The edges of the wrapping paper were worn and stained with ink, as if it had been in his pack for weeks.

"Since before the end of last term," he muttered, ducking his head and not meeting her eyes.

Hermione's hand curled around his and squeezed. "Thank you."

At the touch of her fingers in his, Ron felt a rush of Gryffindor courage. "Um, Hermione, would you, I mean, with me, next time...would you go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Hermione smiled, squeezing his hand once more. "I would love to."

Just then, Harry thundered down the stairs into the Common Room. "Is it safe in here yet, or should I go seek asylum with Voldemort?"

Ron and Hermione jumped apart guiltily, putting as much distance between their hands as possible. Harry, however, was no idiot, having spied the necklace Hermione was wearing the moment he came down the stairs.

"I like your necklace, Hermione," he said, poking Ron in the side. "Ron only went back to Diagon Alley four times before he finally bought it."

Hermione blushed prettily and Ron looked fit to kill. "Shut it, Potter, you nosy prat. I don't see you giving Cho Chang any necklaces, for all your big talk."

Ginny tripped down the stairs and drifted up to Harry's side, a mischievous smile ghosting around her lips. "Why would Harry be giving Cho Chang anything other than the time of day, Ron?"

Ron's eyes narrowed as Ginny wound her arm through Harry's. It was Harry's turn to look guilty and Hermione looked as though she could hardly keep from laughing.

"Let's go down to the kitchens and see if the house elves have some snacks," said Hermione, tugging at Ron's arm. Harry and Ginny fairly shot out of the Common Room, wanting to escape the scrutiny of Ron's heightened curiosity.

Ron reached over and took Hermione's hand as they stepped through the portrait, and though Harry turned back to look at them, this time he did not let go.