The Book of Morgan Le Fey

Chapter Fourteen: Mrs. Weasley's Surprise

On Christmas morning Harry and Ron awoke to bright sunlight and frost on the windows.

They sat by the fire fifteen minutes later, opening their presents.

'Another maroon jumper from Mum,' Ron said, shaking his head. 'I'm going to have fifty of these things before she realizes I hate maroon.'

'Good pies, though,' said Harry, munching on an apple crumble Mrs. Weasley had made. 'Look at this, from Fred and George. New and Improved Skiving Snackbox.'

'New and improved probably means you explode out of both ends instead of just puking,' Ron said, screwing up his face in disgust.

'Either that or you end up with boils on your privates,' said Harry.

'I wonder if they still test their stuff on themselves or if they've found some idiots to do it for them,' Ron mused, opening up his present from the twins. 'Oh nice, they got me a fake wand that turns into a...EW!' He dropped the fake wand, which was no longer a wand at all. 'Looks like a giant bogey.'

Ron and Harry proceeded to open the rest of their gifts. Ron had given Harry several bags full of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans and a handsome, if rather old, broomstick cover. Harry gave Ron a new Chudley Cannons poster and a pocket-sized Foe Glass.

Hermione had gotten Harry a handsome silver quill that only needed re-inking once a day.

'Typical,' said Harry, smiling. 'Something to do homework with.'

'Yeah, she got me a book,' Ron said. 'It's about the history of the Chudley Cannons--you two must have planned this.'

'No way,' said Harry. 'You know I'd never buy you a book, even if it is about Quidditch.'

'Oh, well,' said Ron, flipping through the pages of the book, feeling a bit disappointed. 'I guess since she bought this before...you know...'

'You two attacked each other on the staircase,' interrupted Harry, smirking.

'You should talk,' Ron shot back.

Harry chucked a handful of Bertie Botts' beans at him. Ron caught one and threw it back; it bopped Harry on the nose.

'Knock it off,' said Harry, laughing. Ron grinned. It was good to hear Harry laughing for a change.

'Well, you're certainly in a better mood since you started snogging Susan, anyway,' Ron noted.

'Yeah, like you haven't been walking round grinning like an idiot since you snogged Hermione,' Harry countered.

'Yeah, well,' said Ron, shrugging. 'Would have been better if her dad hadn't interrupted us.'

'Now you know how it feels,' said Harry pointedly.

'Look, how was I supposed to know you two were getting into it?' said Ron. 'It could have just as easily been Seamus or Dean or Neville.'

'Seamus is always off snogging Lavender and Neville's always off snogging that plant of his,' said Harry. 'And Dean is off snogging Ginny.'

'That is NOT funny,' said Ron, screwing up his face in distaste.

'Sorry,' said Harry, grinning in a way that showed he wasn't sorry at all.

'Prat,' Ron muttered, taking a handful of beans. 'So, you and Susan...have you...I mean...what...' His voice died and he looked away. 'Never mind,' he added. It wasn't really his business anyway.

'A little beyond kissing,' said Harry, pursing his lips and blushing.

'Oh,' said Ron, his imagination working to figure out just what 'a little beyond kissing' might mean. He bit his lip to keep from asking any more prying questions.

'She's...soft...Susan, I mean,' said Harry, after a moment's silence, silence which Ron had thought signalled the end of this conversation. But Harry seemed to want to talk, and Ron was inclined to let him.

'She's soft,' Ron repeated. 'Uh, what do you mean by that, exactly?' He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, but he felt compelled to ask all the same.

'I dunno,' said Harry. 'She's just soft. And...and warm. Like...when...we kiss. It's just soft, you know? It's nice. Like...life isn't so hard and cold...when I'm with her. Everything feels...soft and warm. And good.' He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He wouldn't look at Ron. 'I dunno what the hell I'm trying to say.' He was red in the face.

Ron watched his best mate for a moment. Harry had had a very mean, hard life, from the moment his parents had been murdered, up through losing Sirius. And everything in between. His horrible relatives, who'd abused him, if not with fists, then with words and coldness. The burden of being famous when he'd never asked for it. Having a psychopathic Dark Wizard out to murder him. Being known as The Boy Who Lived instead of simply being Harry.

Ron had long felt that he wasn't quite enough of a friend to Harry. Not because of anything he did or didn't do, but because Harry closed himself off so much. There had always been a small part of Harry that was unreachable, except that Ron was only now beginning to notice it and understand it. Now Harry had found someone who could give him what Ron--and Hermione, for that matter-- obviously could not. Susan was a soft, warm presence in Harry's otherwise cold, hard life.

'I know,' said Ron. 'What you're trying to say.' He didn't look at Harry when he said this.

'Thanks,' Harry mumbled. Ron could tell even without looking that Harry was looking someplace else.

'Don't mention it,' said Ron, knowing that Harry wouldn't.

There was an uncomfortable silence and Ron pointedly looked back at the book Hermione had given him. He was flipping through the pages of the book when something fluttered out of it.

'What's this?' he wondered aloud, stooping to pick it up.

'Looks like a Chocolate Frog card,' said Harry.

Ron turned it over and examined it. 'Blimey!' he breathed. 'It's Ptolemy! I've been looking for this card for ages. Maybe...I wonder if Hermione...'

Ron opened the book to the front cover and found a neatly penned note from Hermione.

Dear Ron:

I would have written this note on the Chocolate Frog card enclosed inside this book but then I realized that might make you mad, since a Ptolemy card is supposed to be quite a valuable collectible. In any case, I do hope you make the effort to read about the history of your favorite Quidditch team; I did and I must say it's really rather fascinating.

Happy Christmas.

Love, Hermione

P.S. I ate the Chocolate Frog. I hope you don't mind.

P.P.S. Perhaps I am being forward but I had the sense that you were about to tell me that day in Hogsmeade that you fancied me. At least that's what I hope you were going to tell me. If not, then forget I ever wrote this part. If so, then I fancy you, too.

Ron grinned. 'That girl is bloody brilliant.'

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

At the midday meal Ron, Harry and Susan all sat together, eating heartily and comparing presents. Ron found Susan to be fun and pleasant, aher, his eyes taking on a kind of loving, puppy-dog quality, a bit off-putting. Then Ron realized that he'd probably been making puppy-dog eyes at Hermione all year and thought he oughtn't be so judgmental. And Harry did look genuinely happy with her, which pleased Ron no end.

They were just finishing up pudding when a large owl flew into the Great Hall, carrying a letter in its beak. It dropped the letter into Ron's lap, turned, and soared away, not even waiting to get paid.

'What's this?' Ron asked. 'There's not supposed to be any post today.'

He looked at the letter to make sure it was addressed to him and saw that it was marked URGENT. He opened it slowly, wondering if it might be some prank letter from Fred and George.

It wasn't. It was a neatly written, very brief letter in his mother's hand.

Dear Ronnie,

'I hate when she calls me that,' Ron grumbled.

Your father and I have had to cut our trip to Romania to visit
Charlie short. Charlie's workload has been extremely heavy
for the past year and he was called back in early from his holiday.
As such, your father and I will be coming to Hogwarts to spend
the holidays with you and Harry. I hope you don't mind. I've
written to Bill and he's decided to stay at Hogwarts as well, and
Fred and George will be joining us. It's a shame Ginny can't be
there but the Thomases are a very nice family and your father
hears .

The other reason I'm writing is that I have a big surprise for
you! It's really wonderful news and I can't wait to share it
with you. We'll be coming to Hogwarts by Knight Bus tomorrow
evening. I can't wait to see you.

Love,

Mum

'What's up?' Harry asked.

'Well, looks like Mum and Dad will be joining us tomorrow,' said Ron. 'And Fred and George. I don't know what she's on about with this surprise. Must be a big deal if she won't put it in writing.'

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

Susan went home the following day to spend the New Year's celebrations with her family. Harry seemed a bit deflated after she left, but Ron couldn't help but feel a little better now that she wasn't there to take up all of Harry's time. At least Harry and Ron were now in the same boat, lacking girlfriends and snogging opportunities.

The twins arrived early that afternoon, having decided to get there on their brand new Firebolts, purchased with profits from the joke shop. What had started out as a means of showing off their good fortune and flashy broomsticks and clothes to Ron wound up being a comical mistake, for by the time the twins touched down on the Hogwarts grounds their faces were numb and blue from the cold. They were so stiff with cold that Harry and Ron had to thaw them out with Warming Charms.

A little while later, after they snacked on leftover Christmas candy, they went outside again to play a little Quidditch. Bill joined in, but pretty soon it devolved into a flying snow-ball fight when Fred and George started conjuring up massive snowballs and fore dinner they all returned to the castle to shower and change. Ron was inspired to finally use the Prefects' Bathroom, having learned about its massive, pool sized tub and its dozens of different bath foams.

'Being a prefect does have its privileges,' he said loftily to Fred and George and Harry, all of whom made retching noises. Harry seemed particularly smug about something or other, but Ron ignored him and took off for the bathrooms, greatly looking forward to the experience.

He reached the bathrooms, uttered the password ("Lemon fresh") and entered. It was an impressive room, with huge tubs the size of small pools and a single, huge painting of a sleeping mermaid on the wall. She looked nothing like a real mermaid.

Ron turned on the various taps and tested several of the different bath foams, finally settling on one that smelled of pine needles (the others were far too flowery and girly), then quickly stripped off his clothes and hopped into the tub. The water was hot, but not too hot. Ron floated around in the water and let the heat of it loosen some of the knots in his muscles, knots he'd gotten from playing Quidditch in the cold. He dunked his head and re-emerged, wiping soapy water from his eyes, and then leaned back against the porcelain tile.

He felt drowsy and closed his eyes; he knew he shouldn't fall asleep in the tub, but the water was soothing and the pine needle scent was pleasant. He let his mind drift, and in a kind of half-awake state, he let himself think about Hermione. He wondered if she used the Prefects' Bathroom, then felt heat flood his neck and face. Somehow thinking about Hermione in the bath was not exactly soothing. He didn't relish the idea of creating...tension for himself, so he tried to think of other things, but somehow Hermione kept intruding.

He was just thinking about her chocolate-flavored lips when he heard a loud sniff behind him.

Ron sat up and his eyes flew open.

'Who's there?' he snapped, but he felt very vulnerable. He was naked and his wand was piled on top of his clothes.

'I thought you were someone else,' said a mopey female voice.

Ron whirled around, the water splashing everywhere.

'M-Myrtle!' he gasped, and he quickly sank into the water to his chin.

'Hello,' said Moaning Myrtle, grinning wickedly.

'Bloody hell!' Ron yelled, swirling some of the bubbles around; they were so thick that Myrtle couldn't really see anything. But still...

'I was wondering when you'd come in here,' she said.

'You--you've been in here before?' Ron spluttered.

'Oh, plenty of times,' said Myrtle. 'Didn't Harry tell you? I saw him in here once, in fourth year. When he was trying to work out that egg puzzle.'

'Harry never mentioned it,' said Ron darkly. 'Look, do you mind? I'm a little...underdressed at the moment.'

'Oh, don't worry,' said Myrtle. 'I haven't really seen too much. I closed my eyes after you took off your shirt.'

'Gee, thanks,' said Ron, quite certain she was lying.

'I was getting so bored of everyone else,' said Myrtle, smiling lazily at him.

'You come in here often, do you?' said Ron. 'Spy on people while they bathe?'

'Sometimes,' she said, 'but you're the only other person I've talked to except for Harry.'

'How nice,' said Ron sarcastically. 'I feel so special, really.'

'I'm glad you feel special,' said Myrtle. 'I never feel special.' Her ghostly eyes filled with tears.

'Don't do that, Myrtle,' said Ron quickly.

'Why not?' she wailed. 'Nobody comes to see me anymore. I'm all alone in my toilet!'

'Well, uh, we're not...allowed up there anymore,' said Ron quickly.

'Oh,' said Myrtle, and she stopped crying at once. She smiled. 'Well, in that case, I'll just let you finish your bath, then.'

'I'm quite finished, thanks,' said Ron, making a mental note never to darken the door of the Prefects' Bathroom again. 'Do you mind? I need to get out now.'

'I don't mind,' said Myrtle.

'Well, close your eyes, then!' said Ron sharply. 'And no peeking!'

'I won't,' said Myrtle, covering up her glasses with her hands. Ron leapt out of the tub, soap still in his hair, and dove for his towel, which he wrapped around himself quickly. He pulled on his shirt without bothering to dry off. He heard Myrtle giggle.

'Hey!' he yelled. She quickly covered her eyes again. Ron grabbed his boxer shorts and pulled them up. He tried to be careful about it but the towel slipped.

'Oooh!' Myrtle cooed. 'I've never seen a FRECKLED bum before!'

'MYRTLE!' Ron yelped, yanking up his shorts.

'It's so cute!' she said, giggling uncontrollably.

'Oh my god,' Ron said, horrified, and without even bothering to put on the rest of his clothes, he grabbed his things and tore out of the Prefects' Bathroom, barefoot, leaving a trail of soap bubbles and water in his wake.

He burst into the common room a few minutes later, panting and furious and half dressed and still coated in bath bubbles. He strode right up to Harry, ignoring the guffaws of Fred and George, and bellowed in his face.

'Why didn't you tell me Myrtle goes in there!?'

Harry fell to guffawing with the twins.

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

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were due to arrive shortly and Ron, after enduring ten minutes of jeers from Fred and George for having been caught in the altogether by Myrtle, changed into jeans and a jumper, toweled off his hair and headed down to the Great Hall with Harry to meet his parents.

'Nice outfits,' Ron said, smirking at the twins. They were wearing black leather jeans, dragon-skin boots and luridly colored shirts. 'What are you trying to do, dress like Bill?'

'Bill's gotten soft in the fashion department,' said George, eyeing Bill's rather conservative jeans and heavy wool jumper with disdain. 'He looks like a ruddy Irish fisherman. All he needs is a pipe and a yellow raincoat. Even the earring got tame.'

Just then voices could be heard in the hallway. Professor McGonagall was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and seemed very pleased about something.

They entered the Great Hall. Mrs. Weasley saw her sons and Harry and gave a yelp of delight, hugging all of them in turn.

'Mum,' said Fred as she crushed him against her, 'we just saw you last week.'

'Oh, hush up,' she said, swatting him. 'Let me look at you, Ronnie. Did you get even taller? You're as tall as Bill. And Bill, I hear he's the most popular teacher in the school. Oh, well, and you of course, Minerva.'

Professor McGonagall smiled a very thin-lipped smile. 'I believe I'll go and fetch Severus and Albus.'

'Professor Snape's back?' Harry asked, a bit sharply.

'Yes, I'm afraid he is, Mr. Potter,' said McGonagall coolly. 'He's been away for far too long and his Potions lessons are very behind. You'll all need to do a lot of catching up, if you know what I mean.' She gave Harry and Ron and knowing look and swept out of the room. They nodded glumly. They needed to be up to date on Potions if they wanted careers as Aurors. Still, six weeks without Potions had been something of a godsend for them, not only for the extra time it gave them to study (which Hermione forced them to do) but because it meant that they hadn't gotten any detentions or lost points, as they always did, in Snape's lessons. 'Wonder what he was doing all this time,' Harry muttered under his breath.

'Dunno,' Ron whispered. 'Must have been serious.'

'Hullo, Harry,' Mr. Weasley said heartily, shaking Harry's hand. He gave Ron a brief hug, clapping him on the back.

'So what's this big surprise, Mum?' Ron asked.

'Oh, yes!' Mrs. Weasley said excitedly. 'Well, it's waiting just outside, actually.'

'You got a new car?' Fred and George said together, sounding thrilled.

'Uh, no,' said Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley had crossed to the entrance doors for the Great Hall and disappeared around the corner.

'What is it, then?' Ron persisted. Mr. Weasley coughed uncomfortably and turned to face the doors.

'Come along, dear,' Mrs. Weasley said, backing into the Great Hall and beckoning to someone behind her.

'Mum--' Ron began.

But Mrs. Weasley backed away and revealed the person who had come in behind her. It was Percy.

For a very long moment nobody said a word, but everyone stared at Percy.

'What is HE doing here?' Fred demanded suddenly, in a sharp voice.

'Fred!' Mrs. Weasley snapped angrily.

'Now, Fred, Molly,' said Mr. Weasley, in a stern voice Ron had never heard his father use before. 'Everyone. Percy came to visit us yesterday evening, just after we got back from seeing Charlie. We had a very long talk, and he's apologized to Molly and me, and we've accepted that apology. He knows he was mistaken.'

Percy's eyes darted around the room but he did not look at his brothers. Ron felt a sudden burst of anger bubble up inside him. Fred and George both started to speak but Ron beat them to it.

'Mistaken?' Ron said sarcastically. 'Is that it? How about bloody stupid, eh? How about selfish? You worked for Fudge while Fudge was telling The Daily Prophet to print lies about Harry and Professor Dumbledore. You...you slammed the door in Mum's face and sent back your jumper without a note. Dad almost got killed by a snake and my 'crazy, unbalanced' best mate here is the only reason's he's alive and you didn't even come visit Dad when he was in hospital. We all almost got killed at the end of term last year when VOLDEMORT showed up at the Ministry of Magic. Harry, me, Hermione. I was in hospital for days, and you didn't visit, you didn't write. Bugger your mistake!'

'RON!' Mrs. Weasley yelped, scandalized.

'It's all right, Mother,' said Percy. His voice was scratchy, and it was only then that Ron noticed how thin Percy had become. He had dark shadows under his eyes and was very pale, his hair unkempt and his clothes hanging on his skinny frame. 'I'm quite sure I deserved that, along with anything else the rest of you wish to say.'

Ron, Fred and George all opened their mouths to speak again, but stopped as one. There was something in Percy's voice that caught Ron off guard. Where was the arrogance, the ambitious determination, the lofty confidence that Percy was right about everything? The voice Percy used now was defeated and broken.

'I have no defense for my behavior of the past 18 months,' Percy went on, still looking at the floor. 'There's no excuse whatsoever. I simply wanted to be able to apologize in person to you all. And you, Harry. I don't expect forgiveness, now or ever. And if you would prefer I leave, I'll go.'

'No, Percy!' Mrs. Weasley cried, her eyes filling with tears.

Ron swallowed and looked at Fred, George and Bill, then at Harry. In truth he could not forgive Percy, at least not yet. It wasn't just Percy's actions of the past year and a half, it was everything. For Ron's entire life Percy had acted as though he were superior to everyone, as though his own family wasn't good enough because they were poor. Fred, George and Bill did not look too ready to forgive Percy either, but they all nodded to one another in understanding. Whatever Percy's sins, they would not spoil their mother's happiness at having her son back.

'Percy doesn't have to leave,' Bill said. 'It'll take us some time, understand, for him and for us to fix what's messed up, but...I think we can all put aside our own personal stuff for the holiday, and be a family, can't we?'

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

The holiday could not end fast enough for Ron. The weather had turned ugly overnight, the castle so cold that he took to wearing two jumpers, several pairs of the ugly socks Dobby had given him, and his school robes, which he never normally wore except to class or meals. The tension among the Weasleys now that Percy was back was almost unbearable. Ron could not help, however, but admire Fred and George--both of whom had never liked Percy much, even before the family's fall-out with him--who maintained a kind of cool politeness toward their older brother. It was hardly friendly, but just civil enough to avoid any unpleasant confrontations. Percy, for his part, took to staying close to their parents, who were the only ones genuinely thrilled at his return.

Then, of course, was Snape's return. Their greasy-haired Potions master looked somewhat the worse for wear from his six weeks away; he was thinner and paler (which was saying something, considering his normal skin-tone resembled something close to chalk) and looked alternately disgruntled and unnerved about something. He seemed to disappear again after the dinner the night Percy showed up, but McGonagall informed them, when they had inquired about Snape's latest mission, that he was shut up in his office attending to his duties for the Order of the Phoenix and preparing his lessons for the following term. She also told them in snippy tones to stop prying into other people's business. Harry and Ron were therefore left to speculate on what Snape had done and what information he had obtained about Voldemort's doings. As Harry had not had any visions and his scar was not hurting him beyond the usual daily prickling, he and Ron eventually gave up trying to figure out what Snape was up to and instead began to dread having to go back to Potions lessons at all.

Ron busied himself with studying--something he never did on holiday--for lack of much else to do. The weather was simply too cold and snowy for Quidditch games. Hermione had not left forwarding instructions for her copies of The Daily Prophet, so Ron and Harry took them and read them instead, every morning at breakfast. So far nothing alarming had happened. It was making them both distinctly uneasy. What had happened to those three scientists who had gone missing, not to mention those viruses that had been stolen from those labs? And Ron still hadn't figured out what role Wormtail was playing in all this. Harry reminded Ron that everyone was under the impression that Wormtail had died sixteen years ago, so Wormtail would be keeping a low profile and would not be likely to show up in the newspaper.

Hermione wrote to Ron every day and sent him several postcards with photographs--the non-moving Muggle kind--of various places in New Zealand she was visiting. He endured a day's worth of ribbing from Fred and George when she sent him a photograph of herself standing on a beach wearing the black bikini she'd worn last summer, her hair entirely wild and unkempt, and had written on the back 'I miss you, can't wait to see you! Love, 'Mione.' But Ron was too busy gawking at the photo itself, noticing how tan Hermione was and how she really did have nice legs and how he was so glad her hair was bushy again, to notice much teasing from his brothers.

Ron had even taken to being nice to Crookshanks, if only because he was Hermione's cat. Crookshanks immediately insinuated himself into Ron's routine by leaping up onto Ron's lap whenever Ron was trying to study and, worse, curling up on Ron's bed at night to go to sleep. Ron didn't much like having the cat taking up space on his bed, but he resisted his many urges to kick Crookshanks all the same.

Ron wrote Hermione every day but most of his letters were decidedly mundane. He told her about Percy's visit, but that seemed to be the only bit of news to relate to her. Nothing was happening with Voldemort, and the holiday was really rather boring this year. He tried a few times to write a poem to her but gave up in disgust. Everything he wrote was clumsy and sounded ridiculous when he read it out loud. He only stopped attempting the poetry when he realized he was going through parchment at an alarming rate and wouldn't be able to replenish his supply for lack of funds.

The only thing that made Ron nervous about Hermione's return was that things were still unsettled between them. Ron still felt a bit embarrassed by the way he had blurted out all those things to Hermione after they'd kissed that first time. He reminded himself that his brain had been rather jumbled at the moment, but even so, it was hardly the eloquent type of speech he'd hoped for. And Hermione had not told him she loved him back, had she? True, there had hardly been any time for her to do so, but Ron couldn't help feeling a sliver of doubt about the way things would be between them. When she came back, would she automatically assume she was his girlfriend? Would she want him to ask her to be his girlfriend? Or maybe he wasn't supposed to do that because it would be rushing things. He knew he should take her on a proper date, but then again, they were best mates already. Dates might be romantic but they were also usually the type of thing for two people to get to know one another better. Ron and Hermione already knew one another very well. Why did they really need to date at all?

Ron was so confused by all this that he cornered Bill again on the morning of New Year's Eve.

'So, what do you think?' Ron asked, after explaining everything to Bill in a rush.

'Well, you do have to take her on at least a few dates,' said Bill. 'You can't expect your relationship to be the same as it was but with snogging rights.'

'Why not?' Ron asked, thinking that sounded quite acceptable to him.

'Because,' Bill said, 'Hermione needs to know that you love her and appreciate her.'

'But I told her I did already!' Ron protested.

'Talk is cheap,' Bill said. 'You've got to show her, too. And not just by taking her out on dates, mind. It's the little things that really count, and actions always speak louder than words.'

'Well, I can't afford to...I mean, I don't have all this money to throw around...'

'It's not about buying her stuff,' Bill said. 'It's about not taking her for granted. About treating her with respect. You don't have to act all hen-pecked, you don't have to agree with her all the time and you don't have to change who you are, but you have to respect her as a person. You have to show her that you don't look down on things that are important to her, even if you think they're a bit cracked.'

'You mean like spew?' Ron said, slightly alarmed. 'Her obsession with elf rights?'

'Exactly,' said Bill. 'You might think she's wasting her time or being silly about something like that, but it matters to her and you shouldn't disparage the things that matter to her. I guarantee you that you have obsessions she probably thinks are silly, and she'll have to learn to respect those things, too. Like your obsession with Quidditch.'

'Right,' said Ron. 'I think I get it. But...what do you mean by little things? What sort of little things do you do for Fleur? You know, to show her...you appreciate her or whatever?'

Bill considered for a moment, then went on. 'All right, then. Say, if Fleur cooked me dinner, I'd wash the dishes, without her asking me to wash the dishes. If she had to go out of town for some reason, I'd offer to look after her cat, again, without her having to ask me to do it. I might pick her up a flower on the way home from work, just out of the blue, not because it's Valentine's Day. If I spend the night at her place and I have to leave early to go into work, I'll leave a note on her pillow telling her something nice.'

'You've spent the night with her?' Ron asked, with something like awe in his voice.

Bill rolled his eyes. 'Yeah. I've spent the night with her. A lot.'

'Right,' said Ron hastily, looking down. 'So, it sounds like I have to be a mind reader here.'

'No,' said Bill. 'It just means you have to start thinking about her feelings first instead of your own. It's not all that hard, you know, and it's actually fun and feels pretty good.' He paused. 'And by the way, a girl is usually more...affectionate when she knows her man is treating her right.'

Ron blushed. 'So, uh, if...if I'm all nice to Hermione and do little stuff, she'll...she'll...'

'Be more inclined to kiss you, yeah,' Bill said. 'Among other things.'

'Other things. Right,' Ron said in a strangled voice--he hadn't even considered other things before but now all kinds of other things were swirling around in his brain.

'But you shouldn't be treating her nicely because you expect anything in return,' Bill warned. 'Girls can spot that a mile away. You have to be good to her because you want to be, because you want her to be happy, not because you hope she'll do the physical stuff in exchange. Do you get what I'm saying?'

Ron blinked, trying to absorb all of Bill's advice. 'Yeah. I think so. Be nice to her because...because you want to be, because it makes her happy. Don't take her for granted. Respect, and uh, talk is cheap, and don't be nice to her just because you want to...do...physical stuff.'

'Very good,' Bill said, smiling broadly and clapping Ron on the back. 'Congratulations, little bro. You're practically a man. Now all you need to do is start shaving.'

'Shut up.'