The Smell of Snow

December winds blew across the grounds, biting at Hermione and Ron's faces, which were the only parts of their bodies exposed to the blistering cold. They were walking away from the castle, just having been yelled at by Harry for what had to be the forty-seventh time since they had arrived, which had only been yesterday. Hermione figured he was still a little moody since Ginny had been rather cold toward him before they left the Burrow.

'You don't reckon he'll get over his PMS-thing anytime soon, do you?' Ron said.

'Ron, don't talk about things you know nothing about,' Hermione said, annoyed by his insensitivity.

'Which bit is that: how Harry feels or the PMS bit?' he asked, unsure.

'Both,' Hermione laughed. It was rather difficult for her to stay mad at Ron for long nowadays. With Harry being touchy about the way they fought, they had found it easier to just call a truce.

'What's there to understand?' Ron asked. 'Harry's mad that Ginny's mad because he left her, and one week of each month, you, Ginny, my mother, and every other woman in the world becomes a royal pain in my arse.'

'I do not become a royal pain in the arse,' Hermione said, dignified. 'It's called having mood swings, but I wouldn't expect you to understand something as trivial as that. As for Harry...well, yes, I suppose you're right.'

'Did Hermione Granger just admit that I was right?' Ron joked.

'Watch it or I'll take it right back,' she said with a smirk.

'Nope,' Ron said, rather pleased with himself. 'It's too late for that.'

Hermione merely rolled her eyes. The water lapped up against the banks of the lake, sending a gentle mist of cool water to the surrounding area. The pair of them sat down far enough away so that they would avoid being showered in water. They were silent once more, but in a good way, for once. Hermione breathed in a deep breath of winter air and said, 'You know what it smells like?'

Ron looked at her curiously and then sniffed. 'No. What?'

Hermione leaned back onto the grass, taking another deep, relaxing breath and smiling to herself. 'Snow.'

'Snow?' Ron repeated. She nodded, quite pleased. 'Hermione, snow is water; it doesn't have a smell.'

'Sure it does,' she retorted. Ron gave her a questioning look, and she elaborated. 'That cold, dry smell that reminds you of the fire in the common room around Christmas... It's snow.'

'You're mad,' Ron said shaking his head. 'It is the fire in the common room.' He pointed to the window of the Gryffindor common room, through which she saw the light from the flames in the fireplace dancing on the walls.

'You say that, but I guarantee that tomorrow morning you'll wake up with freshly fallen snow covering the grounds,' Hermione told him confidently.

'Really?' Ron smirked. 'Are you willing to bet on that?'

'How much?' Hermione asked, only because she knew she would win.

'If I win,' Ron said, 'you have to kiss me.' He was grinning like mad and looking very pleased at the prospect.

Hermione couldn't very well say that she hated the sound of that, but she refused to let him know that. 'And if I win?'

'Then, I dunno...you get the pleasure of kissing me,' Ron offered vaguely.

'Not much of a bet then, is it?' Hermione said, staring blankly at the smoke pouring out of the common room chimney. 'No, I think if I win, then you have to reveal your deepest, darkest secret.'

Though Hermione could not see it beneath Ron's hat, she assumed his ears were red; and she was positive it wasn't because of the weather.

'Deal?' she said, extending her hand.

Ron sighed, knowing he was already facing defeat, and took her hand. 'Deal.'

*****

Hermione woke up at eight o'clock the next morning as she always did, but this morning she was anticipating the freshly fallen snow she had predicted.

And sure enough, when she threw back the curtain nearest her, bright white snow reflected the morning sunlight into her face. She couldn't suppress the smile forming on her face, nor could she keep herself from going to the boys' dormitory to gloat.

Quickly and quietly, just in case Harry was still asleep, Hermione tiptoed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, where only Ron's bed was occupied. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. Harry's was unmade but empty, which led her to assume that he was sulking in the common room again.

Hermione rapped gently on the doorframe so that she wouldn't startle Ron.

He looked up, disappointed. 'You always have to be right, don't you?' he said.

'You didn't seem to think it was such a bad thing when it saved your sister's life,' Hermione said, remembering the Chamber of Secrets ordeal.

'Don't get smart with me, Hermione,' Ron said, sounding almost like a professor if he had called her "Miss Granger" instead.

'I don't have to get smart with you, Ron,' she said boldly. 'It just happens.'

'Is that how you knew it would snow: because you're smarter that I am?'

'No,' Hermione said, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed, facing him. 'I knew it was going to snow because it smelled like snow.'

Ron sighed miserably. 'I still don't get it. What does snow smell like? It's water!'

Hermione shrugged. 'It's just something that some people can smell and others can't. It's not a matter of talent or ability. You just have it or you don't.'

'I still think it was just a coincidence,' Ron muttered.

'Yes, but coincidence or not, a bet is a bet,' Hermione said, grinning from ear to ear. 'So, it's time to pay up. Ron, what is your deepest, darkest--Mmph!'

Ron had pressed his lips against her, cutting her off mid-sentence. After the few brief moments of initial shock, Hermione actually found that she enjoyed kissing Ron more than she did kissing Viktor. But she had to take note that Ron had quite a bit of practise with Lavender... But she couldn't think about that now, not when Ron's tongue was passing her lips and caressing her tongue.

At last, Ron pulled away. He looked into her eyes for some sort of sign that she didn't hate him, which of course she didn't. She had only waited for him for three years.

'So, what's your secret?' Hermione said, unable to keep a straight face.

'You still have to ask after that?' Ron said with a hint of desperation.

'Just say it,' Hermione said quietly, staring into his eyes and waiting for the answer that she already knew.

Ron swallowed the lump in his throat and quietly but quite clearly said the four words she had been longing to hear: 'I love you, Hermione.'