All About Faith

     "Do you know, Ron, what Hallowe'en originally was?" Hermione asked him quietly.

     "What? Huh?" he turned sharply to look at her, and in response, she just shook her head and clucked under her breath.

     She tapped the History of Magic textbook open in front of him, "I thought you wanted to study with me, Ron. That's what you told me, anyway," she wove into her tone a note of teasing. "However, if you can't seem to concentrate on this, then I don't know why you even bothered to ask."

     "I'm studying!" he told her in an offended tone.

     "If you're studying, then why are you acting as though you haven't heard a word I said, first of all, and second of all, you seem even more clueless than usual."

     "I am not clueless, Hermione, and if you're trying to bait me, I'm not biting," he slumped in the chair and sulked.

     She had to fight the urge to laugh at him. He really was awfully cute when he was insulted. Or, at least, when he was trying to convince her he was insulted. She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear and took a moment to study him with the same intensity she gave her studies, usually. He pretended not to notice her, but she could tell he did by the shade of red tinging his ears. The longer she watched him, the more red he turned. Slowly, it started to spread, and she resisted the urge to ask him if he blushed that red everywhere.

     Knowing Ron, he'd tease her for the question, and tell her that if she truly wanted to know, that she could find out herself. At that point, she always had turned away, finding something scathing to say, or even something silly. Something that would return their relationship to the status quo that she was familiar with. She liked the firmness of logic, rather than the chaos that seemed to define Ron Weasley. Yet, at the same time, she was inexplicably drawn to him beyond friendship, and had been for ages.

     He had showed some interest since their fourth year, when apparently he had finally realised that she was a girl. Despite the fact that he had seemed all together comfortable with the concept of her being a witch, rather than a wizard, when he had reminded her of that fact during their first year. Yet, they never seemed to move beyond friendship, and it was starting to frustrate both of them.

     Hence, this study session. Or, at least, that's what she suspected.

     She cleared her throat and he looked back at her. Pulling her hair back in one hand, she arched her eyebrows at him and asked, "Are we going to finish this tonight, or are you going to sulk the rest of the evening. Do kindly let me know, Ron, so I'll know whether I'll be wasting the rest of the evening watching you sulk."

     "I didn't tell you you had to watch," he grumbled at her. "You can go on and do whatever you like."

     She contemplated him for a moment, before she leaned across the book that lay between them and kissed him firmly on the lips. She felt him freeze in surprise for a moment before he kissed back. As she pulled away from him, she tilted her head ever so slightly and smiled at him. He still looked shocked as he watched her. She arched her eyebrows at him in question.

     "What... what brought that on?"

     "Well, you did tell me to do whatever I liked, if I decided I had no desire to watch you sulk," she said, giving her voice a sharper teasing edge than it had had prior. "Now, do you think you can listen to me?"

     "I'm hanging on your every word," he grinned.

     She snorted. "Tell me something you expect me to believe."

     "You don't believe me?" he shot her a wounded expression.

     "I most certainly do not. After all the times you ignore me when I tell you something you don't want to hear, or you find boring, or --"

     He kissed her, then. She grew silent out of surprise as much as the fact that his lips were pressed firmly against hers. When he pulled away, Ron grinned at her. "You were saying, Hermione? About the origins of our Hallowe'en holidays?"

     "Er, right," she said, then went back to the book, heat rising to her cheeks. "Um, Hallowe'en began as a wizarding holiday, actually, back before they, er, separated magic from religion."

     "Ah, I distracted you," Ron grinned, reaching for the book. "I thought that was impossible. Once again, you prove me wrong. Let me see, where were you reading?"

     She leaned against his shoulder and peered at the book. Reaching out, she pointed to a particular passage. "It was right here. Right after the line about Hallowe'en being a wizarding holiday at its origins."

     He looked for a moment and leaned back against her as he read, "The origin of the holiday known as Hallowe'en started as a wizarding holiday. This was back before any of the organised schools began teaching magic, and before the faith and the magic were separated into their two parts as they were today. Oh, this *is* interesting," he mused, then. "It says that at one time, there was no separation between the Muggle and wizarding population."

     "Certainly puts new perspective on the arguments the purebloods put forth, doesn't it?" she asked, curling more firmly against him.

     He shot her a sharp glance, "Not all purebloods put forth that theory, Hermione."

     "That is true. Your parents don't, and I'm grateful. It seems that we're all on equal standing in their eyes."

     "This seems to give their way of doing things some credence. They didn't even start separating who was witch and wizard and who was Muggle until the advent of Christianity. We all had one culture, to start with. Do you think it's possible that we could be that way again?"

     "I'm not sure. There's a great deal of prejudice on each side," Ron said.

     Hermione smiled in response. In their fifth year, Ron had finally bent to her great persuasion, and taken Muggle Studies. For one year only, but all the same, it seemed to be enough to get him thinking. He could be quite intelligent when he chose to be.

     After all, Hermione Granger was no fool, and she could not see herself falling in love with someone who was. She had been interested in him as more than a friend since their fourth year, although it had taken them a bit long to get things started.

     Like until that moment.

     She grimaced and pulled the book slightly back towards her, and skimmed the rest of it. "It used to be called Samhain."

     "Sowen?"

     "It's Gaelic, I think. At least, that was the commonly known name for the holiday. There's some debate about whether the magic is stronger now that there's been the separation between faith and magic, or weaker..."

     "I don't think there can be magic without the faith. I mean, it might not be religion, Hermione, but I don't know much about that. You have to have faith that it'll work, though, don't you, or else it won't. And there's more kinds of faith than that that's just in religion."

     "What kind of faith are you talking about?"

     "Faith in love, perhaps," he said calmly, then shot her a look. "You have to have faith in that, or else it just doesn't work. You have to have a little bit of faith, particularly in times like these, or else it's just all distrust and it doesn't even have the chance to start! Love, it's not something you can see or touch. It's something that's just *there* and you have to have faith that it's there or else you won't get anywhere!"

     She was quiet for a moment.

     "Hermione?"

     "So you're saying it's all about faith, then, are you?"

     He nodded. "It has to be at the core of everything, or else there's nothing else there. Sometimes, in hard times, it's the only thing holding us all together. Faith that there'll be a tomorrow. Faith that your friends won't fail you, that they'll be there with you no matter what happens. It doesn't always work, but you have to start somewhere, or else you're constantly watching your back expecting someone to stab you."

     Hermione stretched then, and slumped on the sofa, looking up at him with a sudden mischievous gleam in her eyes, "Oh, I'm sure you'll stab me, Ron."

     For a long moment, he just looked at her, blinking, before stammering out a "What?"

     She smiled and waited for him to figure it out. It didn't take long before the realisation stole over his face, and he grinned as wickedly as she had been smiling up at him. "Well, i wouldn't stab you unless it was welcome."

     "Oh, I'm fairly sure it would be welcome."

     "How will I know, then?"

     "I suppose you'll just have to ask me."

     "You do know, Hermione, that if we keep talking like this, we're never going to get the studying done."

     "The studying can wait," she said, closing the book. "After all, I have plenty of time allotted for our studying of this topic."

     "Hallowe'en, you mean?"

     "Perhaps. Perhaps not," she flashed him a teasing smile. "And I did schedule in time for a break."

     "You planned this."

     "You are a bright boy, then, Ronald Weasley. I always knew you had more intelligence than you let on."

     He stared at her for a moment, then reached out to grasp her by the waist and drag her onto his lap. Hermione, for her part, merely grinned and went willingly. He told her in a low tone in her ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck, still grinning madly, "You are a temptress. I am going to get you for this."

     "Ooh, I'll be waiting."

     Again, he silenced her with a kiss, and she kissed him back in full measure. For long moments, they forgot even about the neccesity of breath, then the portrait hole opened, and Harry Potter slipped in to find his two best friends snogging each other on one of the couches. He stared in shock for a long moment, before let out a soft "Bugger..."

     At the sound, the two of them jolted apart, and both started trying to explain all at the same time. It didn't take long for their words to tumble together in an incoherent mess, and finally, in mild irritation, Harry waved them both silent.

     "I was wondering when you two would get around to it. Go on, go ahead. I can find somewhere else to be."

     With that, he swiftly turned and headed back out of the portrait hole again, leaving his two best friends blinking at each other in shock.

     "What the bloody hell..."

     "Ron..." Hermione looked at him, and he started laughing. For all that everything changed, some things didn't. One of those things would include Hermione scolding him for his use of language. He was fairly certain she would also find a way to convince him to do all the studying he would not otherwise do, as well. She rose then, and glared down at him, with her hands placed firmly on her hips.

     "What's so funny?"

     "How much things don't change, even while they do."

     "Oh, Ron, I was meaning to ask you something," she said casually as she turned and gave him a fair view of her arse while she gathered together parchment, quills, and the book they were studying out of that had fallen to the floor in the midst of their exploration of each other.

     He sat for a moment, enjoying that view before asking her, "Hm?"

     "When you said... about having faith.... were you talking about anyone in particular?"

     She turned, and propped herself against the edge of the table. Her teeth bit down into her lower lip in her nervousness and he smiled, "Of course, Hermione. I was talking about you."

     "Me?"

     "I had faith you'd come to your senses and realise what I felt about you."

     "Oh?"

     "Well, every advance I'd made had been rebuffed, so I needed to know you were interested. You're not the last resort anymore, if ever you were."

     "I was. You were daft."

     "So I was," he shrugged. She pursed her lips at him; how he could let whatever was said roll off his back like he was a duck one minute and be ready to murder Malfoy the next was beyond her. She shook her head and started out of the room without commenting further.

     "Hermione?" he asked her, sounding insecure.

     She shot him a glance over one shoulder, adding a teasing smile to it before asking him, "So, Ron, are you coming so we can finish what we started, or not?"

     When he looked as though he was going to break a table or a part of his body due to the speed in which he moved, all she could do was laugh.

     However, when he reached her, he made certain she wasn't laughing for long.

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~End~