The Book of Morgan Le Fey

Chapter Thirteen: Ron's Declaration

The following Monday the school was abuzz with the talk of all that had happened at Hogsmeade. Apart from Susan Bones, none of the students had been injured in the ensuing panic of seeing the Dark Mark, but all of them were scared and tightly wound.

Susan's injuries had been mended easily by Madam Pomfrey, but Harry told Ron as they sat at breakfast Monday morning that she was badly shaken but also rather angry.

'Voldemort's cronies took out some of her relatives a while back,' Harry explained. 'She's a bit spooked, I think, but she's pretty tough.'

'What were you two doing when you were attacked, anyway?' Ron asked, shoveling a huge spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

'Oh, uh,' said Harry, going red. 'Well, you know. We were just walking and uh, talking.'

'Uh huh,' said Ron through a mouthful of porridge, eyeing Harry suspiciously. Ron swallowed his bite of porridge and asked in a low voice, 'You two were snogging, weren't you?'

Harry was very red now but a grin slowly spread across his face. 'Yeah. Uh, a bit.'

'A bit?' Ron said, his eyebrows going up.

'A lot,' said Harry, his grin very wide as he stared at his eggs.

Ron took a swallow of orange juice and tried not to feel jealous.

'Excellent,' he said, clapping Harry on the back. 'How was it?'

'Good,' said Harry, still not looking at Ron.

'Better than with Cho?'

'Way better,' said Harry.

'Susan didn't cry, I take it,' said Ron, grinning.

'No, I'm, uh, pretty sure she had a good time,' said Harry, looking rather pleased with himself. 'And I definitely did. I mean, at least until Wormtail showed up, of course. Not really the ending to our date I was looking for.'

'Speak for yourself,' said Ron. 'I was this close to telling Hermione about...you know...and then the stupid Dark Mark appeared. You didn't feel it coming, by the way?'

'Well, my scar hurt a bit, yeah, but...I was sort of in the middle of...stuff,' said Harry. He was so red now he looked like a black-haired beet. 'I wasn't really paying attention to my scar.'

'I get it,' said Ron, grinning.

'Good morning,' said Hermione briskly, taking a seat across from them and pouring herself a huge cup of coffee.

'What are you so chipper about?' asked Ron, taking another massive bite of porridge.

'I'm not chipper,' said Hermione. 'I'm just...awake, that's all. The Sunday Prophet had a story about the Dark Mark showing up at Hogsmeade, you know, but there wasn't any mention of any dark wizards or Death Eaters.'

'They would have known if their reporters had talked to us,' said Ron. 'I wonder why they didn't.'

'Well, it all happened very fast, didn't it?' said Hermione. 'The story was pretty bare bones. In any case I can't see Dumbledore letting reporters come into the school. Not after Rita Skeeter.'

'Speaking of Rita,' said Harry, 'is she back with The Daily Prophet? I haven't seen any mean and nasty stories about you and me showing up.'

'No,' said Hermione. 'Get this. She's working at The Quibbler. You know, for Luna Lovegood's dad. Apparently Mr. Lovegood told Rita that The Quibbler was the perfect place for Rita's particular talents.'

'What, making stuff up out of thin air?' said Ron.

'What Rita writes in The Quibbler is no more or less believable than the twenty stories a week about the missing Crumple-Horned Snorkack,' said Hermione.

Just then a screech owl soared into the Great Hall and dropped a newspaper in Hermione's lap. She paid the owl and tore open the paper anxiously, then scanned it, her eyes moving so fast they looked almost blurred. She gasped.

'What now?' Harry and Ron asked at once.

'Something about the Dark Mark?' Harry asked.

'No, it's worse,' said Hermione. 'Listen.' She read the front page headline and article out loud.

'According to sources close to the British, French and Scottish Prime Ministers and those governments' secret service agencies, three top Muggle scientists in those three countries have gone missing. A doctor at the Heatherington Laboratory in Edinburgh vanished, seemingly without a trace, last Tuesday or Wednesday. A scientist at the Barrow Biological Institute in London have been missing since Monday of last week, and another scientist at L'Academie des Sciences in Paris disappeared last Wednesday. Government officials, in communication with the Ministries of Magic in Britain, Scotland and France, are convinced that the scientists' disappearances are related to recent burglary attempts on those three labs less than two weeks ago. At the time all three labs maintained that nothing had been stolen during the break-ins, but The Daily Prophet has learned in fact that in each lab, small quantities of the Ebola virus, viral pneumonia and anthrax virus cannot be accounted for.'

Hermione took a deep breath and continued to read aloud.

'The governments of Britain, Scotland and France all maintain that the quantities of viruses stolen are so miniscule that they could not cause any serious damage, and have reassured the Ministry of Magic that there is no cause for concern within the Magical community, and that the three governments more likely suspect a terrorist organization to be responsible. There have also been suggestions by unnamed officials in Britain that the three scientists were working together as mercenaries and used the attempted break-ins as a decoy, then absconded with the virus samples themselves and have fled to meet up with each other or with potential buyers in the bioweapons black market.'

'In the meantime, Acting Minister of Magic Amelia Bones has been granted new powers by the Wizengamot to increase security at all public areas, government offices, banks and schools within the wizarding community. This is in response to news that the Dark Mark made an appearance in Hogsmeade Village this past Saturday during a visit by students of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Ministry continues to urge everyone to practice extreme caution and vigilance in their daily activities and to report any suspicious behaviour to their local Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

'At this time both the Muggle and Magical governments insist that, based on the evidence, there is no connection between the appearance of the Dark Mark and the events at the three laboratories.'

She stopped reading and looked up.

'I hate being right,' she said, folding the paper up and looking worried.

'You think Voldemort's behind this?' Harry asked.

'There's no other explanation,' said Hermione. 'No logical one, anyway.'

'Then why isn't the Ministry or somebody else saying something to the press?' Harry asked skeptically.

'They don't want to cause a panic, do they?' said Hermione. 'They don't have any proof, do they, that Voldemort's responsible. Just a few thin connections. And the explanation from the Muggle governments makes sense. I mean, there are lots of scientists who are on the take, creating viruses and selling them on the black market to weapons dealers or terrorist groups. It's a perfectly logical explanation.'

'How can you be so sure Voldemort's behind this, then?' said Harry. 'You don't have proof, either.'

'True,' Hermione admitted. 'But I'm telling you, he's going to be looking for a way to deal with his...Muggle problem, and developing a biological weapon is one of the most efficient ways to do it. Of course, not with the viruses he stole. Ebola and anthrax and viral pneumonia are all nasty but they wouldn't get the job done.'

'All those diseases sound pretty nasty to me,' said Ron, feeling a bit sick. 'Bleeding to death from every orifice. Yuck!'

'They are nasty, but they're not the most effective way to kill massive amounts of people,' said Hermione. 'All those viruses can spread quickly but they tend to burn out fast, too. They infect a large cluster of people, but some of them won't die, they'll just get sick for a while and then recover. Plus, there's loads of medicines and treatments for that stuff. And modern hospitals have all sorts of protocols for dealing with outbreaks of diseases like those. By the time the virus begins to really do any damage, hospitals and public health people will know about it and put up all sorts of countermeasures and treatments, and the virus will burn out. Lots of people might die, but not nearly as many as Voldemort would need to wipe out to accomplish his goals. At the very worst he'd create a temporary panic but in the end medical science would win out.'

Ron and Harry looked at each other, trying to absorb all this information.

'So, you're saying that the diseases Voldemort stole are no good?' said Ron.

'No,' said Hermione. 'They're good, if you can call deadly diseases that. I'm just saying, they're not the most effective way to wipe out whole populations. And if he's using those scientists to help him develop something stronger, he won't get very far. Even if he had the most advanced lab on Earth all to himself, Muggle technology just isn't going to move as fast as he wants.'

'Why not just use magic, then?' Harry said. 'It's too weird, isn't it, Voldemort trying to use Muggle stuff.'

'Not necessarily,' said Hermione. 'It makes sense. If Voldemort can find some way to spread a really deadly disease, so that it infects whole populations, he can make it look like some sort accident of nature. Who's going to suspect a wizard is behind a deadly global disease epidemic?'

'Yeah, but you just said that Muggle science doesn't work fast enough to create new viruses--' Ron began.

'Well, that's where Voldemort might bring magic into the equation,' said Hermione. 'He could have the scientists fine-tune the virus itself and then he could magically replicate it, or make it stronger or faster acting or whatever. But the problem with that is he would have to create some sort of anti-virus, to protect himself and his followers. He can't just go around letting a disease loose indiscriminately. He can't risk getting his cronies sick. Whatever he's planning is going to take a lot of work and at least some amount of time.'

'I dunno, Hermione,' said Harry dubiously. 'Voldemort isn't exactly the patient sort. I can't see him spending six months trying to come up with some disease when he can just start going around using his cronies to kill Muggles.'

'If he develops the right virus, Harry, he'll be able to kill off more Muggles in a week than he would in six months using every Dementor, giant, troll and Death Eater at his disposal,' Hermione countered. 'I'm going to the library to do a bit more research on this. And I'm going to owl mum and dad. They've got some doctor friends who might be willing to lend me copies of some Muggle medical texts. See you in Transfiguration.' She stood up and left the Great Hall carrying her huge cup of coffee and a piece of half-eaten toast in her hand, her heavy bag slung over her shoulder.

'What do you think?' said Ron, as they watched her go.

'Well, Hermione's brilliant,' said Harry, 'and she's been right about stuff before but this...it just doesn't sound like Voldemort. I mean, I kind of know the way he thinks.'

'You...you've been able to...read his thoughts then?' Ron asked. 'Using Legilimency?'

'Yeah, a bit,' said Harry. 'I mean, yeah, I did see a place that looked like a lab in that last vision. But the only other real vision I've had of Voldemort is him looking at some book, and I don't remember what the book looked like or what it was called. I mean, he could be hiding out in a lab, for all we know, and looking around for some spell book.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, glancing up at the staff table. 'Hey, where's Snape?'

Harry looked up and noticed Snape's empty seat. 'The Dark Mark, remember?' he said. 'Snape would have felt it on his arm. He must have had to report to Voldemort. Maybe he won't come back,' he added hopefully.

'Interesting timing, isn't it?' mused Ron. 'Those diseases get stolen from the labs, the scientists disappear, the Dark Mark shows up, Wormtail shows up and Snape takes off.'

'That's weird, too,' said Harry. 'I mean, Wormtail wasn't there during that fight in the Department of Mysteries; we didn't see or hear from him at all for a year, and now he's back. He's got to have something to do with this big plan of Voldemort's, whatever it is.'

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, then stood up and slung their bags over their shoulders.

'Well,' said Ron bracingly. 'At least one good thing today. No Snape, no Potions lesson.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next several weeks passed in almost a blur, and suddenly, it was nearly the Christmas holiday again. Harry, Ron and Hermione developed a kind of daily routine, starting with reading The Daily Prophet from cover to cover. Hermione wrote her parents and asked them to send her copies of The London Times, a major Muggle daily that would tell them a lot more about the happenings in the Muggle world. Harry had begun a journal in the hopes of chronicling every vision or twinge of Voldemort he might get. Hermione was spending more time in the library researching bizarre diseases than she was on her schoolwork but still somehow managed to finish it and continue to get top marks. Harry reported that Voldemort had gotten angry a few times, but it was frustration, not rage, which Harry took to mean that his progress with making an effective virus was thus far not going as well as he'd hoped. A report in The London Times indicated that several students at Oxford had gotten from an outbreak of meningitis, but that the outbreak had been contained and nobody had died. Every day, they waited for something to happen, some ball to drop, but it never did.

In the meantime, Dumbledore had issued new restrictions and rules for the students in the wake of the attack in Hogsmeade.

Future Hogsmeade visits were to be restricted to fifth years and above. Aurors had been posted on school grounds and inside Hogsmeade. All students under fifth year had to be escorted to and from classes by a teacher or prefect and all students under fifth year had to be in their common rooms by seven o'clock every evening. Curfews and bedtimes were being strictly observed. Exceptions were made only for members of the Quidditch teams and for D.A. meetings.

The new rules severely cramped the social lifestyles of the students, but nowhere was it worse than for couples, who suddenly found their privacy greatly hampered. This lack of privacy lead to an astonishing number of detentions among students. Every day at least one couple was caught in a classroom or broom closet. Several boys were caught trying to enter the girls' dormitories, but any time boys tried to climb the stairs, loud alarm bells would shriek, preventing their entry and landing them in detention.

It got to the point where one morning at breakfast McGonagall stood up and announced, in her most aggravated voice, 'If one more couple is found FRATERNIZING in the classrooms, offices, corridors, Quidditch tents, library stacks, closets, or rooms that magically appear behind the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, they will receive a week's worth of detentions and lose 10 points each for their house!'

Quidditch matches went on as normal, although students were escorted in strict formations to and from the matches. Gryffindor flattened Hufflepuff rather easily in their match; Susan was none too pleased that her house lost and Harry seemed surprisingly reluctant to tease her about it. Slytherin played Ravenclaw and narrowly defeated them, leaving Slytherin and Gryffindor in a race for the Cup.

Two days before Christmas Eve nearly all the Gryffindors had left Hogwarts. Hermione was still there, waiting to be picked up by her father the following evening.

Ron was in such a state about Wormtail, Voldemort's plans, Harry's visions--or lack thereof--and of course, his feelings for Hermione that he didn't even get upset when Ginny told him that their parents had given her permission to spend the Christmas holiday with Dean Thomas and his family ('Dad probably wants me to owl him every fifteen minutes and tell him something else about Muggle stuff,' said Ginny).

It was just after dinner the night before Christmas Eve when Ron finally determined that tonight had to be the night. He simply had to come clean with Hermione. He spent the better part of the day preparing himself, writing down a speech on a scrap of parchment and carrying it with him everywhere he went, trying to memorize the words.

He entered the common room and found it empty. Dobby the house-elf seemed to believe that extra decorations for the common room were in order. As such, the room was filled with streamers, tinsel, ribbons, candles, and hanging from the ceiling were dozens of sprigs of mistletoe, so many that the ceiling was hardly visible. In a corner near the fireplace was Hermione's trunk, already packed.

Ron flopped into his favorite chair in front of the fire, waiting for Hermione to show up and hoping that when she did, the common room was still empty.

He pulled out the ragged piece of parchment, staring down at the words he had written, and re-written, and re-written again.

'Hermione, I just want you to know that I think you're a really special person. You're my best friend in the world, next to Harry, of course, but I have come to fancy you a lot and I was hoping you felt the same way about me. You're smart and talented and really pretty, too, and I'd be really happy if you went out with me.'

He was reciting them out loud to himself in a kind of half-dazed state and didn't notice Hermione come into the common room.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

'What?' Ron was so startled he leapt up from the chair and accidentally let go of the piece of parchment. He felt his stomach drop like lead to his feet as the parchment drifted into the fireplace, where it caught.

'Oh, no!' he yelled, panicking. He fumbled around for his wand but then remembered he had left it upstairs on his nightstand.

'It's all right!' said Hermione. 'Accio parchment!'

'NO!' Ron yelped, making a dive for the parchment as it zoomed toward Hermione, still burning. His fingers closed around it but touched the flame.

'OW!' he yelled.

'Ron, what are you doing?' Hermione cried, waving her wand at the parchment and putting out the fire. The parchment floated to the ground, half charred, the words obscured with ash.

'Uh, nothing,' said Ron, sucking on his burned fingers.

'What is this?' Hermione asked, picking up the parchment and unfolding it.

'Nothing!' Ron said quickly, snatching it out of her hand. 'Uh, just some...uh...leftover History of Magic notes.'

Hermione laughed out loud. 'Since when did YOU start taking notes in History of Magic?'

'Since...since before,' said Ron, trying to summon indignation but only succeeding in sounding desperate.

'Okay then,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes and smiling. 'You should go to Madam Pomfrey and get those fingers looked at.'

'It's nothing,' Ron said, forcing a jaunty sort of smile.

'Are you okay, Ron?' Hermione asked. 'You're acting a bit strange.'

'I'm fine,' said Ron, his voice a bit higher than normal. 'Just, uh, you know, relaxing by the fire.'

'Uh huh,' said Hermione, looking suspicious, but she gave up on it and instead looked around the common room.

'Look at this place,' she said sadly. 'Why do the house-elves do this, I ask you? I keep meaning to make more elf hats but I never have time anymore. And S.P.E.W. has completely fallen by the wayside. Oh well. This place looks ridiculous, though, doesn't it? All this mistletoe. Honestly. Did you know mistletoe is actually poisonous?'

'What?' Ron asked, for he had not really taken in a word Hermione had just said, because he just noticed that her hair was curly again--apparently whatever she had done to straighten it over the summer was wearing off. But instead of looking bushy it was a mass of very lovely, soft looking ringlets.

'I said, did you know mistletoe is poisonous?' she repeated, looking slightly exasperated.

'Oh, you don't say?' Ron said, his heart racing.

'Oh!' she said suddenly. 'I just remembered why I came in here. I was going to give you and Harry your Christmas gifts before I go. Dad will be here to pick me up soon.'

She hurried up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. At the same moment, Ron realized he had left Hermione's present upstairs. He raced up to the dorm room and opened the door and stopped in his tracks.

Harry and Susan were there, on Harry's bed. Books were spread out all over it; clearly the two of them had been studying, but judging by the position they were in now, and by the activity they were engaged in, Ron quickly guessed they had abandoned studying a while ago.

Susan was pressed back against the pillows, her legs were stretched out over Harry's lap, and Harry was leaning over her; they were kissing very enthusiastically. Ron stood there frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. It was only when Harry started to kiss Susan's neck and she giggled that Ron seemed to snap out of his stupor.

'Uh,' he said dumbly, and he turned away from the spectacle.

'Oh!' Susan gasped, pulling away from Harry and leaping up from the bed. She immediately began smoothing her mussed hair and clothes. Her face was very flushed.

'Ron,' Harry growled, looking both distinctly put out and rather flushed in the face himself. His shirt was untucked and his glasses askew.

'Sorry,' said Ron, looking at the floor and feeling incredibly stupid. Harry stood up and ran a hand through his hair and straightened his glasses. He looked very frustrated. Ron could guess just why, and felt even stupider.

'I was just, uh...well, I'll just be going to the library,' said Susan, blushing furiously. 'See you later, Harry. Ron.'

She gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek, picked up her books from the bed and practically dashed out of the dorm room, leaving Ron and Harry alone.

'Thanks, mate,' said Harry dryly, rolling his eyes.

'Sorry," said Ron. 'I'm really sorry. I didn't even know you were up here.'

'I know,' said Harry, waving his hand, looking a bit less annoyed. 'We came up here to study and...just sort of...got into it.' He tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

'Studying,' said Ron, laughing nervously. 'What were you studying, her tonsils?'

Harry punched Ron in the arm. 'Sod off,' he said.

'Sorry, couldn't resist,' said Ron.

'What are you doing up here, anyway?'

'Oh!' said Ron, having forgotten about why he'd come upstairs in the aftermath of seeing Harry and Susan snogging. 'Uh, Hermione's present.'

'Ah,' said Harry, grinning. 'Right. Well, I think I'll go to the library, too. Give you two a chance to be alone.'

'Prat,' said Ron, punching Harry in the arm. 'Don't go snogging Susan in the library or you'll get detention.'

Harry laughed--a rare but very genuine laugh--picked up his books, and left the room.

Ron opened his desk drawer and grabbed a small wooden box that he then shoved into the pocket of his trousers. He then pulled out the crumpled piece of parchment in the hopes of giving what he had written a last minute once over.

'Oh no!' To his horror, most of the words had burned away. It was too late to try and reconstruct the words he'd written. He'd just have to improvise and hope he didn't sound too stupid. He heard Hermione calling him from downstairs.

'Bloody hell,' he muttered, and he rushed out of the dorm room and hurtled down the stairs where he collided with Hermione, who was coming up.

'Oh!' she cried, stumbling.

'Sorry!' Ron yelled, grabbing her around the waist to keep her from falling. He whirled around and somehow found himself on a stair just below the one on which she stood. 'Are you okay?'

'Fine,' she said, sounding a bit annoyed. 'What are you doing?'

'I was just...getting your present,' he said quickly. 'I wanted to make sure you had it before you left.'

'Oh,' she said. 'I just left yours and Harry's on the table over there,' she added, indicating the two brightly wrapped packages on the coffee table.

'Thanks,' he said. 'Uh, here's yours. I...I sort of forgot to wrap it, though. Sorry.' He withdrew the small wooden box and handed it to her.

'Thanks.' She took the box, her fingers brushing his, and he felt a jolt of electricity race up his spine and into...other areas. She was standing very close to him. It was a very narrow staircase. Ron could smell lilacs in her hair.

She opened the box and gave a little gasp.

'Ron, it's lovely!' she said, taking out of the box a small silver bracelet charm in the shape on an otter.

'Really?' he asked, and he was suddenly talking very fast. 'You don't think it's too goofy or anything? I mean, I thought, you know, your Patronus is an otter, so you must like otters, right? Not that a bracelet charm can protect you against a Dementor but you know...'

'I love it,' she said, putting her arms around his shoulders. Ron felt his stomach leap into his throat and he put his arms around her waist. The scent of lilacs was making him a bit dizzy.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and then pulled back, taking a single step away (there was really nowhere for her to go on such a narrow staircase). With Ron standing on the step below her, their faces were on a level. She was very close, and he smelled chocolate on her breath again. He wondered if she ate as many Chocolate Frogs as he did. Was it his imagination or was she getting closer? Her face was blurry...

'OW!' Ron jerked back and immediately banged his head into the wall. 'OW!' he yelled again. At the rate he was injuring himself he'd break a leg next.

'What happened?' Hermione cried.

'Something fell in my eye,' Ron said, blinking furiously and rubbing at his left eye with one hand and the back of his head with the other.

'Don't do that, you'll scratch your eye,' scolded Hermione, grabbing his wrist. 'Hold still, I'll get it.'

He stood still, lowering his hands, as Hermione leaned in to look at his eye, which stung and was probably ugly-looking and bloodshot.

'I see it,' she said. 'It looks like a bit of mistletoe.'

'Great,' Ron said. 'Isn't it poisonous?'

'Only if you eat it,' said Hermione. 'Don't move.' Very lightly she brushed her finger across his eyelashes, then gently pulled the piece of mistletoe from them.

'Got it,' she said, and she flicked it away.

'Thanks,' he said, blinking furiously, his eye streaming.

'You're welcome,' she said. 'How's your head?'

'Fine,' he started to say, but she had reached behind his head to find the spot where he'd banged it, and began to lightly rub the tender lump that was beginning to form there.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Her fingers were coiled in his hair. His heart was pounding. Whatever she was doing with her fingers felt very good.

'It's really poisonous, you know,' Hermione said in a very soft voice. 'Mistletoe.' She was still stroking his hair.

'You mentioned that,' Ron said, staring at her eyes. He could see his reflection in them.

'It's ironic, isn't it?' she said, taking a step closer to him.

'What's ironic?' Ron asked, in a kind of strangled whisper.

'That you're supposed to kiss someone when you stand under mistletoe,' she said, her cheeks turning pink. 'Even though it's poisonous.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, leaning forward just slightly. 'What...what kind of weirdo came up with that idea, kissing under mistletoe?'

She was so close. Her lips were inches away. He was dying to kiss her. He didn't think he had the nerve.

'I don't know,' she said, her voice barely a whisper. 'You never told me...you know...what you started to tell me. That day in Hogsmeade.'

'Oh, that,' said Ron, feeling heat creeping up his back, his face. 'Uh, well, I guess what I meant to say was...' His voice trailed off and his hand somehow found its way to her face and rested against her jaw.

'Yes?' she asked, and he blinked when she put her hand on the center of his chest, just over his racing heart. Whoa.

'I forgot,' he said, and he found his nerve. He kissed her.

He vaguely heard a sharp intake of breath, but he wasn't sure if it was him or Hermione. Whatever. He had never experienced anything like this. It was strange and terrifying and wonderful. His stomach was doing back-flips and his hands tingled as they moved to stroke her hair. He felt a little jolt up his spine and everywhere else when she wrapped her arms around his neck and sank against him. He felt his knees turn to water as the kiss deepened and he wondered why in the name of Merlin he hadn't kissed her sooner.

She broke away and only then Ron realized he hadn't taken a breath in almost a minute. He gasped.

'Whoa,' he said, his voice sounding funny in his ears, his vision swirling.

'Ron,' Hermione stammered. His eyes seemed to clear and he looked at her face. Her lips were very red from kissing and she was flushed. He was suddenly aware that she was in his arms, that he was practically holding her up. Their foreheads were touching.

'I love you,' Ron blurted. The words tumbled out of him before he quite realized he was saying them.

'Wh-what?'

'I love you,' he said again, amazed at himself, even more amazed that he meant it. And then the words came out in a rush. 'I'm mad about you, 'Mione. I have been ever since you told me I had dirt on my nose. Ever since...since the day you lied to McGonagall about the troll in the bathroom. I love how your hair gets frizzy when it rains and the way you nag me about my homework and...and...how brilliant you are...and how you stand up for people and...how you knit those stupid elf hats and made me and Harry join spew...and I love how you're brave and loyal and...your eyes are so pretty and...and...I'm just this poor, stupid, ugly git and I can't make up poetry like Shakespill and I can't buy you fancy stuff...and...and god, I sound like a complete idiot right now and I'm not making any sense and...I love how your lips taste like chocolate and...oh god...I really want to kiss you again...'

'Ron, shut up,' said Hermione suddenly, and she kissed him, long and slow, effectively putting an end to his clumsy declaration. Ron didn't mind, because his arms were around her waist and she was pressing against him and he was dizzy and tingling everywhere and her hands were tangled in his hair and her lips felt and tasted so very good.

'...you have a good trip, Dr. Granger?'

Hermione yanked herself away from Ron.

'My dad's here!' she whispered frantically, and dashed down the stairs, smoothing her hair where Ron's fingers had tangled it.

Ron blinked, trying to come back to earth. His knees gave out and he sank to the stone steps, landing hard on his tailbone, but he hardly felt it. He managed to put an impassive look on his face just as Hermione's father, Doctor Granger, entered the common room.

'Hi, Dad!' Hermione said in an unnaturally squeaky voice as the slight, thin man who was her father stepped to the center of the room. Next to him was Professor McGonagall.

'Hello, dear,' he said, hugging her. He looked up at the staircase. 'Hello, Ron.'

'Hi, Dr. Granger,' he said, his voice cracking horribly.

'Have a cold there?' Dr. Granger asked.

'No sir,' Ron said quickly. 'Just fine, sir.'

Dr. Granger smiled and turned back to Hermione. 'Don't you look pretty today, Hermione,' he said fondly. 'Have you been outside? You look a bit flushed.'

Hermione and Ron both burst into terrified laughter. 'Uh, yes, Dad, outside. That must be it. That must be why I'm...flushed.' Hermione flashed her father a rather huge smile. McGonagall's eyes went from Ron to Hermione and back again, and her lips went thin.

The portrait hole creaked again, and Harry crawled through.

'Hi, Dr. Granger,' he said as he entered the common room.

'Harry, good to see you!' said Dr. Granger heartily. 'You and Ron sticking around here for the holidays, are you?'

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'Well, don't get into too much trouble,' Dr. Granger said, giving Harry a chuck in the ribs with his elbow. He laughed. 'Teenage boys, always getting into mischief. Am I right, Ron?'

'Right you are, sir!' Ron said in a loud voice. Harry stared at him.

'You feeling all right there, Ron?' Dr. Granger asked, taking a few steps toward him. 'You look a bit flushed yourself.'

'Oh, THAT,' said Ron. 'Uh, I've just been outside myself. You know. The cold. Makes me look...flushed.'

Dr. Granger smiled and turned to Hermione.

'Are you all packed, dear?'

'Yes, Dad,' she said. 'My trunk's already down here, actually. I brought it down this morning.' She pointed to her trunk, which was tucked in the corner near the fireplace.

'Excellent,' said Dr. Granger. 'We ought to get a move on. We've got a flight to catch. I'll leave you to say good-bye to your friends, shall I?'

'Please, allow me, Dr. Granger,' said Professor McGonagall, shooting Ron a very penetrating look. She pointed her wand at Hermione's trunk and said 'Locomotor trunk!' The trunk levitated and then floated toward her.

'Incredible,' said Dr. Granger, giving McGonagall an admiring smile, and he followed her out of the common room with the trunk floating between them.

The portrait hole closed and Ron and Hermione both let out a huge breath.

Harry looked from one to the other and back. He started to say something but then Hermione threw her arms around him and said, in an abnormally bright voice, 'Well, goodbye, Harry! Happy Christmas! I've left your present on the table right there. You can open it tomorrow.'

Ron had somehow managed to find his legs again and walked slowly down the stairs. His brain was still reeling and his lips were tingling.

'Uh, 'bye, Hermione,' said Harry, looking rather non-plussed.

Hermione turned to Ron. They both looked at each other and blushed, then she smiled with something like glee and hugged him rather fervently.

'Bye, Ron,' she said. 'Happy Christmas. See you soon. Thanks for the charm!' She kissed him quickly on the cheek and just a bit longer on the lips, then she waved at them both and hurried out of the common room.

Harry watched her go, then turned to Ron, who was standing there slack- jawed.

'Ha!' Harry said, slapping Ron on the back. 'You finally told her, didn't you?'

Ron stared at Harry, then back at the spot where Hermione had just been standing. He touched his lips, which were still tingling. His bruised head and scratched eye and burned fingers were forgotten. He had kissed Hermione. Twice. When he spoke his voice was full of awe.

'I did. Blimey.'