Excuses

Red. Green. Silver. White. In what seemed to be an instant, these colors became much more prevalent all over Hogwarts. The hallways screamed with the spirit of Christmas. Everything reflected the fact that it was once again December. Teachers were becoming giddy with the thought of holidays ahead and gifts to be unwrapped. And, a few students had actually already begun to buy Christmas presents.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not these students, though not from lack of trying by Hermione.

"All the good ones will be gone, you know. You'll have to settle for something ridiculous and end up giving your mum a sweater. That would be pathetic; you know she makes those for herself!"

"Ah, come on Hermione we have an entire month before Christmas, besides I don't see anyone else shopping."

"First of all, there are no shops on the grounds of Hogwarts so you can't actually see anyone shopping. Secondly, there are exactly 24 days shopping days before Christmas, not a month. Thirdly, you know there are a few people, Ron, who actually do things before the night before. They do them early so they can be done well; and, they get better rewards for doing them."

"Well those people don't have the fun that the people who don't do it until the night before do."

"Ron, that barely made any sense. Besides, you could have fun after you do whatever you need to do. That way you aren't rushing at the last minute, and it isn't hanging over your head."

Ron opened his mouth to reply.

"Come off it you two!" Harry emphatically remarked. "You have been arguing about the same thing for seven years! If you two are going to have a row, at least have it about something different!"

"But, we row about different stuff, don't we 'Mione?"

"Of course!"

"And, exactly what stuff is that? I don't think you can think of anything except Vicky."

Ron started, "Well there was the time...that...Hermione...you know...Crookshanks! Yeah, we had a couple of rows about him eating Scabbers who was really Peter. I really wish I hadn't had argued with you about that now 'Mione. I shoulda just let the bloody cat eat him."

"Don't swear, Ron!"

"Well that deserved it didn't it?"

"Well, if you are going to swear that is probably the most applicable time to do so."

Everyone passing stopped, mouths dropped, and crickets chirped incessantly. Hermione Jane Granger had agreed with something that Ronald Bilius Weasley had said without huffing, eye-rolling, or tsk-ing. A miracle for the ages! Harry was shocked, Crookshanks was appalled, and there was a certain amount of tittering among those who were either gossip- or gambling-inclined.

"Bloody hell, what time is it?"

"RON!"

"Dinnertime."

"Sorry 'Mione. Thanks Harry." Ron puffed himself up. "I thought so, my stomach can tell the hour of feeding better than any man's!"

"Ha! You...a man, that's hilarious! You can barely grow peach fuzz. If you wanted to grow a beard, no, no, a goatee; it would take you years."

"Hmph, this from someone who's boggart is McGonagall."

"Don't you dare patronize me! She said that I had failed. I do not fail, Ronald. Which does remind me, how did you do on Boron's last test?"

"You know very well I flunked it! 'Did not simmer long enough.' What a bunch of bullocks! I simmered that stupid cauldron for exactly 25 minutes, like I was supposed to! He just hates me, you know! Harry, you know he loathes us, right?"

"Yeah" Harry responded unconcernedly. "Guys, you can go on down to dinner. I'll meet you there in a minute. I have to go back to the Common Room for a minute."

Harry stood up, looked at his watch, grimaced, and briskly strode past the dusty shelves of books.

"I wonder what that was all about." Ron said.

"Didn't he do badly on that test, too? Besides, he has the weight of the world on his shoulders... literally. We should just let him be...alone...for a while," Hermione sagaciously commented, with a bit of a grin.

Ron and Hermione removed their buttocks from their seated positions in the library chairs under the watchful eye of Madam Pince, who only refrained from reprimanding them for excessively loud talking because Hermione was practically Assistant Librarian after seven years of spending many, many hours amongst the books. And, well, it helped that she was Head Girl, too.

They walked towards the Great Hall, passing dazzling decorations and listening to the newly shiny, squeak-less, and utterly perverted suits of armor singing off-key carols with half the words missing or otherwise improvised.

"What was Harry on about us not rowing about different things? Of course we do. We row about everything. There is nothing we haven't rowed about!" Ron declared.

"I am sure there is something we haven't argued about. But, now that you mention it, I tend to agree with you. We do have the predilection to row about most anything." Hermione grimaced at the sound of a badly sung "King Wenceslas" as they turned a corner. "We don't always argue, though, you know. We have agreed on some things."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that we have a...tendency...to row. We did agree about what to tell Harry about Sirius, I mean, when we thought he was trying to kill him." Ron's face fell slightly when he mentioned Sirius' name. But, he bravely soldiered on with a smile and a little shake of his head. They could hardly afford remorse until the war was over.

Hermione also gained a bit of sadness at dearly departed Padfoot's brief mention. She continued, "We both agree that Voldemort is evil."

"We both, finally, agreed to say Voldemort's name! I don't know why it took me so long. I guess it was that whole 'sixteen years of fear' thing that I grew up with. Sometimes I wish I could've just been Muggle-born like you and Harry."

"Harry's not actually Muggle-born, you know."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I had been born into a magical family. It would have been much easier for me-and my parents-to accept who I was. Anyway, I know to an absolute that your family is the most important thing in your life, and you would never trade them for the world. Goodness, I would never trade them, and they aren't even my family. Sure you sometimes dislike one another, but in the end, you're family, and you would die for one another."

"I know. But, what are you talking about 'they aren't my family?' O' course they're your family. We all love you so much...and Harry. I know my mum is ecstatic about having another girl in the house. So is Ginny. My dad gets excited because you're a Muggle-born and can tell him what all the shiny and blinky things in the shed do. And, we'd fight to the death for you...both. I mean, I kinda have already. You're as good as a Weasley. And, between you and me, that's sayin' something."

Hermione laughed. "Well, I love you all, too! I am very glad I'm a part of your family, Ron. The Weasleys are certainly a unique brood."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Ron proclaimed in mock outrage.

"What other family is full of red hair, freckles, and obstinate children?"

"I can not deny my red hair and freckles, but I am not obstinate!" Ron jokingly argued.

"The pure fact that you are arguing about your obstinacy proves the fact that you are, indeed, obstinate!" declared Hermione.

"I am not obstinate!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Rowing again, I see."

Harry had just come up behind them with Ginny in tow. They had finally realized that they had arrived at the Great Hall, and that quite a few people were staring at them. Ron gave them all angry glares and Hermione tapped her foot in their direction. They scattered.

Hermione responded indignantly, "No, we were not. Thank you very much."

"Hermione is lying to you. We just got finished with a row where we argued about if I was obstinate or not."

Harry smirked, "Of course you aren't, mate. I don't know what on earth she could possibly be referring to."

Ginny spoke up. "Well, I do. When we were little you would hardly let mum drag you back in when you were playing outside. You even put up a fight when I denied moving one of your presents under the tree to a different part of the tree, and you kept on arguing with me long after I had admitted to it. And then there was that time when...."

"Enough, thank you, Ginny!" Ron said rather quickly.

"You see, I was right!" Hermione smiled smugly.

"But, Harry's on my side, and he has known me as long as you have."

"Ah, but Ginny has known you for much longer. About ten more years, I think."

"Well, I have known myself for seventeen years, which is longer than anyone except for Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie...well, anyone here, anyway."

Harry intervened, "Please, can't we just go eat? I'm starving."

Ron's stomach growled much louder than assumed possible, even by those who study such things.

"If Ron's stomach wasn't going to eat itself; I would have forced them to keep going. I wanted to see the show," Ginny said.

"That's what happens when a man's stomach gets hungry." Ron responded pointedly towards Hermione.

Hermione just snorted, and they all walked into the Great Hall to the surprised and unsatisfied stares of many of their classmates. The Christmas decorations were not there to disappoint, however. There were, easily, ten, twelve, giant Christmas trees positioned along the walls. Hanging from their enormous, green branches were ornaments with all the house colors emblazoned upon the baubles. The twinkling lights all around the hall were randomly scattered fairies dancing in-between the stars. Layers of a silvery cloth adorned every wall, except the one behind the teacher's table. Every time you looked at it, it changed into a different color, from silver, to red, to green, to metallic blue. Each house table had Christmassy decorations engraved into them, shimmering in the low light of the Great Hall at night. And, as usual, the sky's broad expanse was captured by the enchanted ceiling.

The Gryffindor table was nearly full, as they had spent so much time in their heated discussion, but they managed to find four seats close to one another near the end. They were about to sit when Hermione spotted Seamus, who had also arrived conspicuously late, frantically trying to shove a piece of parchment into his robes.

"Accio Parchment." Hermione said as the paper dutifully flew into her waiting hands. Seamus burned a crimson to rival a Weasley and was slightly shame faced when Hermione's eyes quickly skimmed over the paper.

"Well, Head Girl, what is it?" asked Ron who was looking forlornly at the empty table.

"It looks like a calendar. But Seamus was never the type to keep organized, so this is probably not a day planner. Let's see....December 9^th says...'Hermione-Leg Locker Curse-10:00PM-1/20-Justin F.'" Hermione skips down the page. "Alright, December 25^th 'Hermione-Cruciatus-7:12AM-1/7-Neville L.' There's more... 'Ron-Slug Curse-7:15AM-1/9-Yentil P.' 'Hermione-Full Body Bind-7:02AM-1/3-Lavender B.'"

Hermione stood in stunned silence, along with Ron (though he was sitting), for about a second and half while most of the Gryffindor table within earshot sniggered. Ron was still gaping, looking like a fish out of water, when Hermione spoke, slightly puzzled, mostly angry.

"What is this?"

Seamus let out the air he had been holding since she began to read the paper. "Well...me and my buddy Dean here...we...kinda...have some bets goin'."

"Bets on what?" Hermione questioned frostily. Ron had finally come to his senses and was staring at Seamus and Dean with the same intensity as Hermione.

"You see...they're...sorta bets on...when...you and Ron...would...curse each other into oblivion. It's really a good system. People put bets on who's performin' the curse, you or Ron; what curse, the Body Bind is favorable for you; what date, that's the calendar bit; and what time. Me or Dean then writes who made the bet, the amounts are on a diff'rent sheet of parchment, and the odds. We think Christmas is the most likely day, so the odds are low. 'Round seven is when you norm'lly wake up to unwrap presents, so the odds're low there, too. Hermione, you're prolly gonna be the one performin' the curse, so the odds remain low there. The curses're really up in the air, but we doubt it will be an Unforgivable, so the odds go up wit' those. It's really a fair system. All of it's completely voluntary, and it's all in a bit o' fun idn't it?"

Hermione seemed too outraged to speak. Ron, on the other hand, seemed just angry enough.

"What d'you mean curse one another? We wouldn't do that! Sure we row all the time, but it wouldn't ever come to curses. I know better than that. I would get my arse kicked. Guys, Hermione and me are best friends. To become best friends you don't attack one another! I mean, I sure hope it'd never come to curses. I would never get that angry at Hermione. Not enough to curse her. God, I sure hope she couldn't get that mad at me, either...that could end badly for me."

"Don't be ridiculous Ronald. Of course, I won't ever curse you. I do appreciate your sentiments about my cursing ability, but I know you could do just as well." Hermione lowered her voice. "I could never get that angry at you, Ron, not ever."

With an effort she turned back to Seamus. "You, I never would have thought you would be clever enough to even think of something like this. I'm sure the twins would be proud. Regardless, this breaks no rules and, well, if people are really going to waste their money betting on when Ron and I will curse one another; they can do what they want. I do not approve of gambling in any aspect, but if people want to lose their money; it is of no consequence of mine."

Ron was smiling broadly. Harry and Ginny were collapsing on one another in fits of laughter. Hermione finally sat down.

"I suppose you both knew about this?" Hermione accused. Ron glared at them.

"Knew, of course, I knew," Ginny responded amid her fits of giggles. "I have December 23^rd, 8:00PM, Hermione, Bat Bogey Hex. I picked that one because I planned to teach you how to make it especially nasty, and I knew that you would kill Ron for not Christmas shopping in enough time."

Ron stared pointedly at Harry, "You, too?"

"Yeah, how could I not? It was too much to pass up. I think I have December 17^th, 9:15PM, Ron, A great deal of red sparks. I just assumed Ron would wave his wand in anger and some sparks would come out. He'd break first."

Hermione shook her head, "This is absurd. Ron and I would never attack one another. We have the occasional heated argument, but we would never get as far as wand usage, would we Ron?"

"Of course not, 'Mione."

"I don't understand what is wrong with all of you. I am going to eat dinner now."

Ron was already rapidly consuming the potatoes, and chicken, and bread that had magically appeared in front of his plate. Apparently all the Quidditch he had been playing gave him a hearty appetite. That's a lie. He's always had an insatiable hunger.

***************

Long after dinner, Hermione and Ron sat on the sofa in front of the fire in the Common Room. Harry was helping Ginny with some Defense against the Dark Arts assignment, and almost everyone else was either in bed or at home for Christmas.

Hermione was reading, as usual, a book bigger than most small animals. She rested it on her bent knees as she curved into the arm of the sofa. Surprisingly, Ron was also reading. He, however, was reading Quidditch Weekly and had a piece of parchment out to work out some of the new moves and plays in the magazine. The fire was roaring, which created a cozy warmth that evaded the rest of the tower. A copy of The Quibbler lay on the table. The cover was emblazoned with a green bowler hat and the title "Will Cornelius Fudge strike again?" Though their main stories still tended to run parallel to ludicrous, the rest of the information was news unfiltered by the Ministry.

Suddenly, Ron heard a loud snap. Hermione had just shut her book, agitatedly.

"Ron, are we really that bad?"

"What?"

"Do we really argue so terribly that other people think we are going to curse one another?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I guess they just don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"Why we fight so much."

"Well, neither do I....Why do we have row, after row, after row, Ron? Why?"

"Well, I actually don't know either. It's just the way we are, isn't it? It's just what we do. We've done it since we first met. I was jealous of your smartness and you just like to argue...."

Ron and Hermione were now alone in the Common Room. Those who had not already receded into their dormitories had succumbed to the weight of their eyelids and drifted off into the land of pillows and curtains. Harry and Ginny had mysteriously disappeared.

"Hold on now, I don't like to argue; it just happens. Besides, I was jealous of you. You had already made a friend on the train. You were having a jolly good time; whereas, I got to look for Neville's toad the entire ride." Hermione hugged her knees. "And, I saw you at the station with your family. I was jealous of how much you were so obviously loved by so many people. My parents love me, I know that, but I sometimes wish that I could have had those sibling rivalries and that crowded house when I was growing up."

"No you didn't. The race for the bathroom in the morning, the crazy meals that were more than chaotic, the older siblings that you have to live up to, but you love them anyway, the fights. You really don't want that. It is worse than you think it is."

Ron looked into the dancing flames of the fire. His magazine had long since been laid down, the parchment inside of it. His face had become speculative. His red hair, kept short by an obsessive mother, was almost as erratic as Harry's. In profile, his long nose was apparent. His ginger eyebrows folded into a "V" as he stared into the flickering orange-yellow glow. His lanky body was less lanky than it had been, and, like most active young men, he had slightly filled out.

Hermione turned and looked at him. Her hair, less bushy than in previous years, was put up in what could be construed as a knot with a pencil through it. Her knees became unbent as she slid closer to Ron on the couch. Her smaller frame lost in the folds of last year's Weasley sweater. She looked meaningfully at him.

"I have lived there in that house with you. I do...well, I did want it. I guess I have it now, in a way. And, Ron, you know that you have lived up to your brothers. You've helped defeat Voldemort quite a few times. I think it's at about six, now. You are Quidditch Captain. You are a Prefect. There is nothing that your brothers did that outshines you. Your parents are so proud of you. I know they are. Ginny is proud of you, and so are the twins and Bill and Charlie."

Hermione was close enough on the couch to reach out and turn his face to look at her directly.

"I'm proud of you."

Ron gazed at her with mesmerized eyes. His look caught every bit of her skin as if seeing it for the first time. His eyes drunk in her bushy hair; her wide, brown eyes; her bitten lip. The sweater that seemed bulky and disheveling moments ago was now the most ideal garment in all the world. Her face was enticing, inviting, stunning. He had no idea why he hadn't seen it before, her beauty. Maybe he had been blind his entire life, or maybe he was just an idiot. But he saw it now. Her entire body seemed to radiate the essence of perfect, perfect, perfect.

Hermione stared back into the depths of Ron's vast blue eyes. For her entire life she had been searching for something. She wanted to find something larger than herself, something inexplicable, powerful, uncontrollable, meaningful, that felt right without stipulations or conditions. She had found it. The thing she had been thirsting for, yearning after. It was fire. This wasn't a tangible flame that created exterior warmth; this inferno manifested itself internally. It made a sensation of warmth that spread across her entire being, to the tips of her fingers and toes. It made her want to stay in this exact position, this exact place, with him, forever.

Ron whispered, "Now, where did this come from?"

"Where do you think?"

Hermione moved her head forward, her hand still under his chin. She had definitely found what she had been looking for. The emotions that had been bottled up in this place deep inside flowed everywhere. Every reason they had argued, every anger-inducing moment, every happy memory flooded her whole self. She was practically giddy.

Their lips met.

He didn't know where it came from. He didn't much care. He just knew this was a long time coming. Ron actually understood why he had been a thorn in her side for all those years, why he had defended her so readily, why he never wanted anyone as close to her as he was, why he felt so much-jealousy, heartache, happiness, awe-every time he looked at her. Right now, everything made sense.

They broke apart. They were breathing a bit heavier than was customary. Ron moved his hand up to cup her cheek, and Hermione paralleled his movements. The sexual tension was practically substantial. The air was permeated with years of frustration, tolerance, and excitement. The fire in the grate roared.

They collided, almost forcefully. There was an all-consuming hunger in them both. They could hardly get enough of one another. If their lips separated it was but for a mere second to obtain oxygen before they resumed devouring the other. They matched movement for movement. Both of them had wanted the same thing for such a long time, and now they had it.

Then there was laughter. Loud laughter. And applause.

Hermione quickly snapped her head around to look around at the rest of the Common Room. Ron gazed past her head rather reluctantly.

Ginny and Harry stood there, laughing incredibly hard.

"Harry...I...thought...they would...catch us...!" Ginny managed to force out.

"Me too! And...here...they are...snogging!" Harry said between chuckles.

"Well, now that you know what we were doing until you so rudely interrupted, what exactly were you two doing?"

Ron was greatly appreciative of Hermione's tone, and her question.

Trying to retain some semblance of regular breathing, Ginny explained, "We were looking at trees."

"To see if they existed or not. We had to check." Harry added, until they both burst out in gales of gut-wrenching laughter.

"That was our story...'cause...we thought you...wouldn't want...to know. But...you....were... doing it!"

Harry had put his hands on his knees by now, and tried to support himself that way. His glasses dangled from his shaking face. Ginny was leaning on his bent form, quaking on her unsteady legs.

"It's...just...so...ironic!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Yeah, it is. But, now that we know it's ironic and all that, can we all just go on our merry way?" Ron practically pleaded.

"Well...no...we can't...trust you two...alone anymore." Harry attempted to say in a stern voice, but it was of no use.

"But, we aren't leaving, so...you two had best...not...snog anymore. I know I don't...want to watch that." Ginny could support her own weight now with only occasional bouts of weakness.

Harry was maintaining his balance, as well. "It's about time, you two. I mean, I thought I'd have to shove mistletoe under your nose...or push you together 'accidentally.'"

"Well, you're welcome, Harry. It's all for your benefit!" snapped Ron, a little put out by the fact he wouldn't get to kiss Hermione again that night.

Hermione was a bit dejected, as well. She detangled herself from her new paramour, and removed herself from the couch sadly resigned to the fact that there would be no more snogging.

"I'm going to bed now." She said warningly, "Ginny, I expect to hear you momentarily."

"Yes, mother."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. It wouldn't be that bad to be Mrs. Weasley. She gave Ron a slightly lingering goodnight kiss, which was terminated by catcalls from the peanut gallery, before walking off toward the stair. Oh, how she hated that collapsing stairwell.

Ron watched her go, forlornly, making a promise to himself that vengeance would be obtained as soon as possible against Harry and Ginny.

Hermione hesitantly put her foot upon the first stair. She would see Ron tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, even though she wanted to stay with him now. She smiled, and turned back toward Ginny and Harry.

"You might want to think of a better excuse, that one was very poor. Of course trees exist."