Perfect

Christmas bites. I've decided I really don't like it. First, I couldn't find anything good (that was in my price range) for Hermione and had to settle for some really pathetic gift that hardly means anything. She's my friend I want her to get something decent for Christmas. I don't ever have problems like this shopping for Harry. I just get him something I want. Most times it's about Quidditch. It works out. Second, I got into a really huge row with Hermione about procrastination and gifts and about me not noticing things and the Christmas spirit or something, so she refuses to speak to me. This turned out to be more of a problem than I had anticipated because I needed to know what she wanted for Christmas. So, as I previously mentioned, I had some trouble. Third, the night was a little cold. Alright it was a lot cold. I mean, it's the middle of winter in Scotland. What do you expect? And the sky was clear; that means no snow. I like snow, especially on Christmas. But, it seems as if we're not going to get any. Fourth, I should be excited about what's happening tonight, but I'm not. I really don't wanna go. Damn Harry and damn Ginny, damn peer pressure. It'll make you do crazy things, like go to balls you don't want to go to. I would prefer just not to go, but Harry is glaring at me every two and a half seconds to ensure that I get dressed and look smart. Damn him. Even if he didn't do it, Ginny promised she would barge into our dormitory if I did not emerge five minutes before the thing began and force me out the door, clothed or not. She would do it. Poor Bill...that one time...she was only three.

"Harry...I don't want to go, at all. I don't even have a date...." I pleaded for the four thousandth time.

"Ron, this is the four thousandth time you've said that. And, I still don't care. You are going to go, and you are going to have a good time because you want to have a good time with your friends: me and Ginny. Besides, if it were up to me, mate, I would let you sulk in the dormitory the whole time, but Ginny...."

"I am not sulking!" I defended myself indignantly.

"Yeah, sure, absolutely, and the reason you haven't come out from behind the curtains of your four poster for days is because....?"

"Shut it, you."

"Oh! I think I know...you were bitten by a vampire and can't come out during the day! No, no, that can't be it. You still stuff your face at breakfast, tea, lunch, you have a snack, then at dinner. You could secretly be a boggart! No, that's not it either or you would be a rather ugly dementor right now...you must be sulking."

"The hell I am, Harry!"

"Logic proves it. There is nothing to be done. You are sulking and me and Ginny are going to get you out of this room and into the Great Hall if it takes a Bat Bogey Hex. And, I don't think that I'll be casting it."

He threatened me with one of Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex's. That was below the belt. Them things are practically deadly. Grudgingly, I accepted my fate. I began to put on the dress robes that Ginny picked out for me and the twins so kindly paid for. They were blue, green, and black, which, all at once, seemed to bring out my eyes, go with my skin tone, and just make me look cool, at least according to Ginny. And my robes matched quite remarkably with the full-face mask I was to be wearing. It was colored black with blue around my eyes and green outlining the entire thing. I thought I looked alright. The mask was made so it was really quite comfortable and not hot at all. Oh, how I love charms. Harry didn't look all that bad either, for a bloke who was forcing me to do something I absolutely did not want to do. He was wearing green, yellow, and black, with a feathery mask thing that fit very well around his glasses. His mask covered his face up to his nose and there were pointy looking things down to his cheeks. He did look quite cool. For a bastard.

"You ready, Ron?" Harry looked at me threateningly.

"Yeah, as ready as I'll ever be," I responded, resigned to my fate.

We walked out of the empty dormitory-all the other boys were either home for Christmas or had left already. Harry was behind me, I think to make sure I didn't just shut myself in and curse the door to be permanently sealed. Damn it. There goes Plan A. Into the common room we went. The place was practically desolate. I didn't think I had waited so long to get already. Oh well, it isn't as if anyone was waiting for me. Well, Ginny was technically, but you and I both know she didn't much care if I came or not.

Tapping her foot, hands on her hips, Ginny was standing in the Common Room. She did pick a good dress color (it was dark green) and her hair was done up all nice and pretty. I am glad mum finally got a girl in the family. If she wasn't able to see one of her children like this (all girly)... I'm afraid one of us boys would have had to take one for the team. Good thing Ginny decided to show up to look cutesy. Today, she looked a little too good if you ask me. I would have to keep an eye on them....

"It's about time you two!" Ginny sounded almost exactly like mum; I was a bit scared.

"Sorry, Gin, I couldn't get Captain Cry-A-Lot into his dress robes until a couple of minutes ago. He was still complaining."

Well, I didn't want to go, and told them so for the four thousandth and first time.

"Ron, we don't care that you don't want to go because you are coming with us. You are already dressed and downstairs. You will not keep sulking about that row with Hermione another second, and that is that." Again, she sounded scarily like mum.

"I am NOT sulking."

"Yeah, sure, you just really, really like the color red."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"What color is your bed Ron?"

"Hey! Shut it!"

"Ron, you deserved it. You are sulking. And, if we don't get down to that masquerade in at least the next hour, I will hex your mask and the grotesque features that lay under it. I am wearing a dress; we are going to the Great Hall."

"Fine, but I'm not dancing."

"I don't care what you do Ron as long as you go."

With that, Ginny walked to the portrait hole. Harry poked me extremely hard in the side; I suppose he wanted me to follow her. I sighed and grudgingly put one foot in front of the other, heading to what was sure to be my doom. At least I would get punch.

We had almost reached the doors (I had almost reached the snacks) when Ginny wheeled around.

"Ron!"

"What?!" I had no idea what was going on.

"I'm going to change your hair color."

"Why? I like it this way."

"So, no one will recognize you. It'll be fun."

"Go on and do it, Ron. No reason not to."

"Thank you so much for your input, Harry. Ginny, if I say no, will you do it anyway?"

"Yes."

"Well then...why did you ask?"

"To give you a chance to say something."

"Well, that was considerate."

"Thank you. Follicolorous."

"That was well done, Gin."

"Thank you, Harry, thank you. Charms are my specialty. Ronald, your hair color for tonight is a deep, rich brown. I hope you like it."

After that she took Harry's arm and smugly sauntered off into the Great Hall, leaving me by my lonesome. I could return to the Tower. No one is there. They won't notice; they'll be having such a good time. But, I had had my mind set on punch. And, I was already down here. I was going to get punch. I walked towards the doors, gulped, and went in.

There were a lot of people in there. More than I expected. I mean, seriously, how many people are in Hogwarts above fourth year? Perhaps there were outsiders. Was Durmstrang here? I looked around quickly for the telltale uniforms and smug, ugly facial expressions. I didn't see them. Though I was still a bit depressed about actually being forced to go to a ball, I was a bit more cheerful after that.

The Great Hall looked amazing. I doubt there is another word that describes it better (at least not one I can think of). The walls were covered in a dark material that I couldn't tell if it was black, purple, blue, red, and/or green, but it looked good. The light was only candles-there were many less than normal, for the ambiance (the things I learn hanging out with Hermione) I suppose-and the starry night sky. Tables were set up for two, four, eight, twelve, and probably more, but who cares to count that high (besides Hermione). In the middle of the Hall lay the dreaded dance floor. Thank goodness I didn't have anyone to force me to dance. I would feel bad for Harry, if he had a soul.

My eyes flittered to the right wall. There it was. My hope, my sanctuary, my destiny: the refreshments. Punch was in my line of sight. I took one more gasp of air before plunging myself in the sea of students. I dove.

Keep your eyes on the prize. Stare down that punch. Let nothing get in your way.

I had to give myself a bit of encouragement to get to the snack table as fast as possible. I twisted, I spun, and I twirled through an obstacle course of people, all of whom had on masks. I actually recognized a few of them, much to their later disappointment (I told them afterward that their masks were about as effective as a first year's Patronus). Neville was the easiest to spot considering his mask was askew. It seemed as if it had become dislodged because of some frenetic dancing with someone who actually seemed to enjoy it (I have never seen this girl before...I wonder), so I didn't think he would have too much of a problem with it. I, of course, recognized Ginny and Harry in the fracas. I did already know what they looked like except now they had big ol' grins on their faces. Well, at least they were enjoying themselves. Maybe they would forget about me, so I could escape. I saw Lavender and Parvati, who couldn't hide who they were with twenty pounds of make-up and sixteen hideous masks, though it seemed they tried. I did not wish to disturb them, as they looked like they were having a grand time glaring at anyone who did not speak to them. Besides, Lavender creeps me out a bit. Malfoy didn't do anything different to himself at all apart from putting on a black mask that hardly hid his eyebrows. It was extremely entertaining, however, to watch him try to ditch Pansy Parkinson to go snog some bloke in a corner somewhere. I don't know why he brought her. Everyone knows he's gay except for Pansy. I would feel bad for her, if she had ever said or done anything remotely nice for anyone. But I don't.

My nostrils flared with the scent of sugar and punch. I was close. One more step. YES! I had reached the Grail! I quickly prepared myself to go invisible. Red punch sloshed onto the white tablecloth (it didn't stain, there be magic here) and cookie crumbs were all that was left upon a seasonally decorated plate. I was ready. I began to back slowly towards the wall. I had picked a spot already, perfect for lounging. There would be no dancing there. I checked behind me. Nothing was about to impede my progress. I was going to make it without incident. I looked back at the rest of the hall.

I stopped.

Cookie silently fell to the floor. I don't know how I kept a hold of my punch. But, that doesn't matter. I had seen something more wonderful than punch, than cake, than even my mother's pie. I had seen the most perfect being on earth. She had just entered the Hall. Her light purple gown clung to her as if she had commanded it to its place (which is entirely possible). The skirt-looking-part trailed a bit behind her as she walked, the fabric outlining her elegant legs. It tightened around her middle, as it should. She had a perfectly sized waist...it made the bottom part of her dress look very good. What lay above her stomach was singularly, hands down, the most perfect pair of...shoulders I had ever seen. They were covered in flawlessly creamy skin and curved downward in exactly the right way. The only part of her face I could see was the chin, and even from this far (which was much, much, much too far) I could tell she had a delicate but strong chin, if that made any sense at all. Her mask that was settled on her presumably delicate features kinda looked like a butterfly. It had angles and creases in it, and it faded from white in the middle to a deep purple on the outer portions. Light glistened off of her immaculate hair. It was in curls, but not all of it was. Safe to say, it looked perfect. I followed her with my eyes as she walked in her striking gait to the opposite side of the Hall. She turned, and I was allowed to see her back. Whoever it was that made her turn, I must find, and thank them (unless they were asking her to dance, in that case, there will be murder). Her dress had a low back, or at least low enough to tell me that she was absolutely perfect.

I had seen her. And, I was going to go over to her. I didn't actually know what I was planning to do once I had reached her. But, I would be able to see her much closer than I was seeing her at this current moment. That had to count for something at least. I began walking. My hand still clenched the cup of punch I had ladled for myself, what I am sure was, ages ago. I passed it off to Colin Creevey (at least that's who I think it was) and began to shove my way through the dancing mass. I never let my eyes leave her purple draped perfection. As a result, I stepped on, shoved over, tripped, or otherwise harmed quite a few people. They were in my way. They lived.

Suddenly, my sight filled with purple, creamy skin, curly hair, and flawlessness. I was right next to her. My nose tingled with a hint of flowers, soap, and something else I couldn't name, but it was fairly familiar. My fingers sifted through my hair. Ginny's charm had better be gone by tomorrow. And, it had better be working. I think I was about to make a complete fool out of myself.

My extremities revolted against my brain. There was nothing I could do. I kept screaming "NONONONONONOONOOOOOOOOOOOO! Don't do it!" in my head, but nooo, my arms and my fingers and my legs wouldn't have any of that. I really have to think of a way to show them my gratitude.

My arm rose and my finger tapped her gorgeous shoulder. Her, what I presume to be, beautiful face (how could it not?) turned towards mine. As can be expected, our eyes locked. I assume hers, along with mine, were a different color than usual. It was a feature of the mask. I got to have brown eyes (to go with my brown hair, apparently) for a night, and she made good use of the most stunning fictional blue eyes my imaginary irises had ever seen. I stared (probably longer than I ought to have) into her falsely-colored, sparkling pupils and found something oddly familiar. I don't really know what it was exactly, but I felt warm when I was looking at her. I felt as though I would never be lonely again, and that she had all the answers in the world. I was drowning, and it was great. Right then, I had this strange compulsion to just kiss her, even though we had only met for about four seconds, hadn't actually said anything to one another, and had not caught a glimpse of even a nose.

My deserter of a hand held itself out as if offering something. She accepted. There's that warm, tingly feeling again. And, off we went. I hope I remember not to tell Ginny I danced. And danced. And danced. Here's the thing, though, I wasn't rubbish. It just (here's that word again) felt right to dance with her. My hand was a perfect fit for her back and just rested there like it did this all the time (it didn't). Her hand and my other hand made friends rather quickly, and my shoulder didn't say no to its companion. There was something markedly familiar about this as well. Our conjoined parts just fell into place. It was comfortable, very comfortable.

We twirled, we spun, and we twisted all around the dance floor. Nothing went wrong. I made no missteps, but if I did and didn't notice, she recovered remarkably well. It was just us in that Hall. No one else existed. For hours, I gazed down at her as she looked up at me. Our illusory eyes never broke their mutual contact. It was ridiculous. I was never so intent upon something or someone in my entire life. During those moments she was my entire world, my past, present, and future. There was nothing beyond her and her perfection.

Then she was gone.

I looked around, maybe she wanted punch (I would understand that) or to get her coat or purse or something, anything. But I saw no sign of purple in the Great Hall. The decorations were being cleaned up, and people were filing out of the massive doors. There was not a trace of purple. I frantically searched the room with my eyes again. She wasn't anywhere. She was gone.

I mean, why not? I was only having the best night of my life (even though she left, it still ranks up there). Why would she not leave? I am not charming or smart. I am not dashingly handsome (not that she could tell with the mask and all). I don't even have a dazzling smile. There's nothing that would keep her with me. McGonagall made the announcement it's time for bed. I dropped her hand and turned to look to see if I can find Harry and Ginny. I turned back, and she was gone. I made a huge mistake. I shouldn't have broken contact. She probably thinks I didn't want to touch her anymore. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I just lost perfection.

I gave up my search for Ginny and Harry before it even started, and trudged up the well-worn path to my dormitory. The Fat Lady hardly heard the mumbled password that came from my lips. I was thinking about perfection. About how it can almost be there and then gone in an instant. About how it's impossible to grasp in the first place. About how it gives a person something to aspire to but doesn't actually exist. Still, even if perfection was unfeasible, I had her memorized. The way she felt against me, how her hand fit into mine. I knew it. The way she smelled, how she smiled, the familiar, comfortable feeling I got when she was close to me was permanently ingrained into my memory. The way I fell into her eyes; the warm, tingly sensation I felt when she was near; and the slightly nervous, strange feeling I got in my stomach when I thought about her. All of it, I'll remember.

My mutinous body took me the rest of the way to my bed, past the very few people left in the Common Room and the slowly dying fire. I tugged off my dress robes and chucked them at my trunk, hoping I wouldn't need them again any time soon. My pajamas were on and the curtains were closed so fast I almost didn't notice that Harry wasn't back yet. I think I might have a little talk with the best friend in the morning. I started to fall asleep to the sound of the night and this warm, tingly sensation.

Damn it! Christmas is tomorrow. I woke up a little after that. I have to be patient, kind, and tolerant and will kill Harry the day after tomorrow. Stupid Christmas. I might not even be alive to murder someone else. I can't forget that Hermione's going to be very angry with me once she opens her present. But, I will think of the Christmas spirit (which I seem to lack and not understand, according to Hermione) as opposed to torture, so's to be happy at six in the morning, which I have decided is impossible, but I might as well give it a try. Instead of falling asleep (which I was going to do Christmas or not) with early mornings, hassles while shopping, and maroon sweaters in my head, like I do every December 24^th, I thought about exactly how perfect it would be if someone decided to mix blue and red together.

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

A pillow was flung at, and connected, with my head (through the curtains. His aim has improved since first year).

"Wake the hell up! It's Christmas!"

"And, you kiss my sister with that mouth?"

My wit was much sharper this morning than most. I normally just throw a pillow in his general direction, hit something breakable, and curse very loudly. But, still, I just gave him a very large opening. Hey, it's early!

"I can't help it if she snogs me first!"

"Well, what if I can't help it if my fingers form a fist and my arm punches the hell out of you?"

I now remember my extremities were currently in an uprising against my brain. I can't control them. If something were to happen, it wouldn't be my fault. But no, I can't. I shouldn't. It's Christmas. I might.

I heaved myself out of bed. My massive biceps flexed against the too tight pajama top as hordes of attractive women flock to me (hey, it's Christmas!). Another pillow against my head makes my hallucinations cease. Damn Harry. I am now completely present within my plain, muscle-less, horde-less reality.

"Alright! I'm awake, dammit!"

"'Bout damn time! It's Christmas!"

"Yes, thank you. We have already covered that, I think."

My eyes were still clouded with sleep and impaired by my annoyingly long, but very much ginger, hair (Ginny is good at Charms, who woulda thunk?).

"Ow!"

Damn trunk.

"Could you be any slower? I want to see Ginny...and what I got...and the tree."

"Shut it you four year old, glasses wearing midget! You've had Christmases before, you see Ginny everyday, and you pretty much know what you've got, so just hold the hell on!"

"Fine, but I can't believe it's taking you this long to find your slippers."

I am not a morning person by any means, but on a day that I have been dreading, for example, this Christmas, I am not at all pleasant.

"Let's just get the hell downstairs."

I followed Harry out into the Common Room where Ginny and Hermione waited impatiently. Well, one was impatient; the other looked very calm and serene, almost as if she was somewhere else. But I wanted to be elsewhere, too, so I couldn't blame her.

Ginny asked, "Where's Neville?"

"He's still sleeping last night off. I thought we should let him sleep."

I didn't even remember Neville was in our dormitory, much less thought to wake him. Did Harry just say something about sleep? Oh well, I don't think I'll be getting much more of that today. Maybe I can catch a nap when Hermione isn't speaking to me because of the rubbish gift I got her, and when Harry and Ginny are off canoodling somewhere (which is all the time, so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge). I do wonder if Ginny would still snog Harry if he didn't have any teeth? I'll look into that.

"What about Parvati and Lavender? I remember seeing them last night."

Parvati and Lavender exist, too? I had no idea. I hardly remember anything about last night. Well, anything except perfection.

"They were still sleeping when I left, Harry. I am sure they stayed up late talking about which boys they'll shag and which ones they won't. I am extremely glad I am used to them by now, or I would never get any sleep. Well, that and I have this perfect charm that just blocks out irritating sounds...."

I laughed, hard. I really have to get me one of those for when Seamus and Dean get back. Though, she still wasn't speaking to me. I'll change that somehow. Wait, did she just say perfect? Mmm...perfect. A smile ended up on my face. I guess I wasn't in control of my mouth either.

Harry had practically dived onto the floor next to Ginny as if it were the last seat on the only train to Candyland, once we had finished discussing the whereabouts of others. The place to sit closest to the presents (Harry had apparently moved ours down before I woke up. I just didn't notice. It was the morning) that was actually on that funny little thing Ginny and Harry had seemed to have forgotten existed, called furniture, was occupied by Hermione. So, logically, I took the seat as far away from Hermione as possible. Since she is going to kill me, I want a forewarning. It might even give me enough time to run away. However, with a spell arsenal like the one Hermione has under all of that brown, curly hair it won't matter. Maybe she forgot to bring her wand down. I'm pretty sure I did. That is not good news for me. I have to remember to write to mum really soon...before I die or lose permanent use of my arms. My seat was close to the fire, though. So, even if I am going to die a horrible, painful death, I will be warm.

"Good morning Harry...Ronald. It's so nice of you to join us for such a joyous holiday tradition."

It seemed as if Hermione was speaking to me again, in utterly formal tones, but she was speaking to me. Well, that won't last long, so I'd better make the best of it.

"You are very welcome my dear lady. Shall I doth giveth thee thine handkerchief so thou mighteth dabeth thine dainty and scandalous wrists? Perhaps milady would prefer me stoned to death for discussing such a terrible thing as her uncovered forearms?"

Another pillow and my head got acquainted. However, this one was thrown much harder than the ones in the dormitory. Apparently writing so much has given Hermione killer arm strength.

"Ow!" I said, rubbing my head, while the people on the floor sniggered mercilessly, "Was that really necessary?"

"Of course it was. You mock me. I punish you. You know how the rules work. They always end in me being violent towards you in some way."

By now, Ginny was rolling around on the floor holding her sides because she was giggling so hard. Harry was working hard not to get too carried away, but it looked as if one of his ribs was about to break.

"Well, that's only because I won't hit girls."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! I thought I taught you better than that! You can hit whoever you want to as long as they deserve it. It won't do any damage, anyway."

"Ginny! Don't use my middle name!"

A cloth projectile filled with cotton flew towards my face only to make a perfect landing square on my nose.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! I have been trying to teach you equality and tolerance since before I even knew you. Do not say such things because they insinuate that you are more powerful than a girl. You're not. Especially not with wands."

"Hermione! Don't say the name in the middle!"

A previously soft, stationary item-now a painfully hard, speeding object-made yet another red mark upon my fiercely burning face (mostly because of the pain, my ears were burning for other reasons). Where the hell are all these pillows coming from? Do they stockpile them?

Why must I insist upon making Hermione angry at me? Even on Christmas. Judging by the way her eyes're narrowed, her lips're pursed, her arms're crossed, and the way she is emanating this strange, foreboding feeling, I am in deep trouble. And, this is before she opens my present.

"Hermione...Ginny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, promise! But you are right. I do hit girls." Now, I begin to build a better fence. "Gin, your Bat-Bogey Hex gives me nightmares, and I have never been able to hit you without you hitting back, harder, even when we were like four. 'Mione, there is no possible way I can beat you in anything relating to spells or charms or curses or even potions. And, there is absolutely no way I would hit you, much less figure out if I can win in a fight, though I think I could, I have about a foot on you and my arms are almost as long as your legs."

God, another pillow! Is there a target painted on my face? I haven't seen Fred and George recently, have I? But, instead of an angry glare from Hermione, I got a grin. I really can't seem to control the muscles around my mouth. I think I chose the right seat, too, because there was this warm feeling I was getting.

"Soooo, Ron, did you like that masquerade last night?" Of course Ginny would bring this up while smirking (she likes doing that, doesn't she). I guess I would hear silence a lot faster then I expected from the person who sits on furniture who isn't me.

"Yes, yes I did."

"You liked a ball...now I'm intrigued." She turned in her seat to look at me. Oh no...now Hermione's getting into it. Why does she have to look at me like she wants to know everything about me? It makes me shiver. And, they won't stop asking me questions until my brain is sucked dry.

"Well, it seemed as if our young Ronald was rather, shall we say, attached to a dashing brunette for the majority of the evening."

Leave it to Ginny to make me seem like some sort of pervert.

"I wasn't attached like that. We danced. That's all." My voice dropped lower...I was sad. "Then she was gone. I mean, this girl was perfect then she went away. Just like that. I don't even know who she is or what she looks like. I only know what her body's like, which was fantastic, by the way. The way her...."

"Thank you for that Ron." Hermione said curtly.

"Were you there Hermione?" I think Harry just asked because he wanted to avoid yet another row. All he has to do is wait. Then the storm will come. But, now that he had inquired, I wanted to know.

"Yeah, I don't remember seeing you there at all."

Ginny smirked. "I don't think you saw very much."

Yes, thank you again Ginny.

Hermione pointedly ignored Ginny's statement. It was Christmas. "Yes, I was there. I had a marvelous time dancing. I doubt I had as much fun as you though Ron."

This time I threw the cushion. Not that it did me any good because once again I ate pillow. But, Hermione was grinning again, which was very good for me.

"Well, now that Ron has been hit in the face and/or head with about forty pillows, do we want to open presents?"

As Harry finished his statement, once more a squishy projectile flew at my face. I was prepared, though. And, the perpetrator received a flying invitation to the cotton ball. Surprisingly, the smile wasn't wiped off Hermione's face; instead, it just got wider. My lips were apparently attempting to stretch upward as far as they could, and my internal organs were under the impression that they could do whatever they chose. My heart started beating faster, and in the pit of my stomach a funny feeling started to spread. I was fairly accustomed to this organic revolt; they had started this rebellion in varying degrees for a few years now. But, for some reason, it was a bit stronger today.

With cat-like reflexes that only a Keeper of my caliber can obtain, I caught the lumpy package that Ginny chucked to me, a bit harder than necessary, I must say. Three more of these were grabbed or thrown, and we all tried to rip open the brown paper at the same time. Inside mine lay a note from mum telling me how the family's been (good), a large box of Cauldron Cakes (shudder), an assorted grab bag from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a few Galleons, some dragon-hide gloves, four mince meat pies, and a sweater. I look up at everyone else only to notice that they all got basically the same thing. Harry got Fizzing Whizbees instead of Cakes. Ginny got boots instead of gloves. Hermione's sweater was...maroon? Wait! Hold on! I dug through my pile of gifts again. I hardly looked at the sweater (actually I didn't. I just felt it as I gazed at everyone else's presents) before. I pulled it out, scattering a few things to the floor in the process.

"My sweater's maroon. It's always maroon...but Hermione's sweater is maroon, too. They're both maroon. I don't understand why mum would plague someone else with this wretched color. And she's repeated colors. Mum never repeats colors."

"I don't think maroon's that bad, Ron. Besides, you should be happy to have such a warm, lovely sweater....But it is rather odd that we have the same sweater. "

"Yeah, a little. Mum never repeats colors, and here she's done it twice."

This was true. Harry's and Ginny's sweaters were both the same lovely green that "brings out Harry's eyes," which Ginny was, now, spending an annoyingly long time gazing into.

"I guess she's run out of wool. I should have bought her that for Christmas instead of those ugly little salt and pepper shakers."

"Ron, you had no way of knowing. It is quite strange, though. She has never repeated a color?"

"Not that I know of."

"And, she does it twice this year...."

"Don't you dare think of some weird explanation for this other than the fact that she has run out of wool. There is nothing else that would explain it, anyway."

"But...she must have some...reason...behind it."

"You mean, like, I don't know, she has run out of colors of wool!"

"Well, no. Yours is always maroon. Mine isn't. And this year, of all years, she just decides to make someone else's maroon, too. Someone you know, that you speak to everyday. Why did she make my sweater maroon?"

"Don't forget that she changed Ginny's as well."

"That's the problem. It doesn't make much sense. She changed one of her children's annual sweater colors for no apparent reason, and she's changed my sweater color for no apparent reason."

"...other than she ran out of colors of wool!"

"Ginny, what's the color of your sweater normally? Isn't it...."

At the sound of her name Ginny started paying attention to the rest of us. Thank goodness. They were getting bloody irritating just sitting there, not saying anything, staring at one another.

"Pink. Yeah. Mum just got so happy to have a girl in the family. I bloody hate pink. Sometimes, I feel cursed to be the only girl. But, I suppose she thought Harry wouldn't look that good in pink."

Then she started to snicker like a madwoman.

"Why are you snickering, madwoman?"

"Because Harry would look terrible in pink."

She was obviously lying. Well, not telling the whole truth. I mean, she would snicker (as I am) while thinking about Harry in the color pink, just not like a madwoman. But, how exactly do you combat that statement without causing an argument? I mean, it's Christmas. I've done enough damage. Hold on, I think I just used my rational thinking. I used my brain and thought before I spoke! Hermione would be so proud.

"But, if you're right, Ginny, that would mean that your mother intended to do this. But why? I mean, it kind of makes sense with you and Harry, a little, but with Ron and me? I just don't get it."

The floor must have some sort of laughing powder on it or something because Ginny and Harry were at it again. Except this time neither Harry nor Ginny was holding back. They had surpassed laughing. Currently, they had reached the stage of guffawing. I wouldn't let them reach the next level. I chucked my patented anti-laughter device in their direction. They regained their composure long enough to retaliate with a vengeance.

"Why don't we open some more presents?" Hermione suggested after the entire fiasco was over. Well, except for Ginny who still occasionally broke into little bits of laughter.

It was if someone had slowed down time. I watched Harry (damn him) toss my disgustingly awful present to Hermione. If only I could get up in time. I could stop her from getting it, act like I hadn't gotten her a gift, and apologize profusely. Maybe then she won't kill me, just maim. Then Harry threw me a wrapped box. I could stop death for a few more seconds.

I quickly ripped into the colorfully swathed gift. It was a book. I think I knew who it came from, already. But, the cover had a quaffle design. And, when I opened it, instead of finding many large words in incredibly small print, I saw nothing but a blank page. All of the pages were blank. Using my morning observation skills I finally noticed there was writing on the inside front cover.

To Ron,

I thought this might come in handy when you are a famous Quidditch player. You can write plays in it or your thoughts, whatever you feel like. I have used mine to tabulate all the books I have read and what I thought about when I read it (along with some personal things). I know you'll find a good use for it. And, I promise this has no enchantments to speak of, at all. I checked it myself.

Love Hermione.

Talk about unexpected. This was really a clever gift. Now, I can doodle on something other than my History of Magic "notes." I can make up Quidditch plays. I can do whatever I want with this. I had never thought I needed or wanted something like a "journal" before, but it isn't that bad of an idea.

"Thanks Hermione!" I said as emphatically as possible. "This is going to be great! I am going to put so much stuff into this."

"I'm sorry it's not very clever. It's just that I wanted to get you something you could use. And, I use mine all the time. So...."

"Are you sure it's not enchanted?" Ginny seemed wary, as was to be expected.

"Yes, checked it myself."

"Oh good! I don't know if I could handle another diary situation. Once is enough, thanks."

"We are the only people who can say that, you know." Harry smiled.

"That's what makes us so bloody cool." I completely agreed with Ginny. It does.

"Damn straight!" You see.

We all laughed and giggled and smiled as I saw my impending doom. It was time for Hermione to open the present in her hands. My present. This will be bad. I must prepare myself for the firestorm. She slowly unwrapped the end of Ronald Weasley. I looked at Ginny and Harry for the last time. They were intent on the unveiling of my fate. A little corner of the black cover was all I could see of the gift. Then it was in her hands. She held it and opened it. It was cheap, very cheap. She knows that, I can see it in her face. It was a bad gift. A terrible idea. I shouldn't have done it. I really shouldn't have.

I stood up from my seat and took a step forward. I was readying myself for the onslaught. And, maybe it would make my plea for mercy more forceful, I don't know.

"Hermione, I am sorry this was such a terrible gift. I...."

But, that's all I got out. I saw her get up from her chair rather quickly. I scrunched my eyes hoping not to see my certainly painful, messy death. Then I felt warm. Very warm. I opened my eyes, and there was the top of Hermione's violently curly head. Her arms were wrapped around me. It seemed as if I wasn't dying. My arms encircled her as if they do it all the time, and put my cheek against her head. I felt comfortable.

"Ron, this was one of the most thoughtful things you have ever done, and I have ever received. I love it." She whispered almost inaudibly. I heard every word.

I breathed in. My nostrils flared to the smell of...no way. No way. The insides of my sinuses tingled with the now recognizable scent of flowers, soap, parchment, drying ink, and familiarity. I let the aroma of Hermione waft into my nose once more with a deep inhalation of air. There it was as potent as the night before, and just as alluring, as wonderful, as perfect.

I moved my hand to the small of her back. It fit just right. Though I really didn't want to, I took a step back. And I put my hand in hers as she placed hers up on my shoulder. That was it. I had pretty much figured it out before, but I completely realized it now. That feeling of familiarity, that comfort, the reason I understood everything she did and everything her eyes said to me was because I knew it already. That perfect girl I thought I lost was Hermione, the one girl who wasn't a Weasley that I would never leave, that I would fight for regardless of circumstance. It was Hermione.

"It was you." Hermione said breathlessly.

"And, it was you." I responded wittily.

"Now, it all makes sense. I should have known."

"Well, so should I."

"But, we didn't....Why not?"

"Maybe it's because our disguises were too good, our masks too well made."

"Or our clothes so atypical."

"Or because the truth was right in front of our faces."

"And it was practically impossible to see."

My hand brushed up against her cheek and remained there as I stared into her eyes. Everything made sense, now. Gazing into those brown orbs of hers I felt comfortable, and as if I would always be with her. If I had any questions, they would be answered. If I ever felt cold, she would let me sink slowly to the bottom of her heart and warm up again. Looking in Hermione's eyes gave me this strange impulse, this urge that I felt not eight hours ago (it's only been eight hours?).

I leaned in with my hand still upon her soft face. My thumb was slowly caressing the creamy, white skin of her cheek. I would like to say that I kissed her or even that she kissed me, but neither was the case. Our heads stopped their forward motion when our lips made contact. It was a soft kiss. Our lips had hardly touched when all of the backed up emotion and want poured out. It was as if the floodgates had opened and behind them was an ocean full of years and years of constant rainfall. They exploded from their confines to meld with all of the other feelings. We broke apart for a mere moment. Our eyes met again before sheltering themselves under their lids. Being supported by passions that had been developing for over half a decade, our lips gleefully conjoined once more.

We were disrupted by the sound of applause. Damn them.

"'Bout damn time!" Ginny proclaimed.

"Seriously guys. I mean, wow. It's been how many years now that we've known, Gin?"

"I think it's been about three since I've known. Ron threw an absolute fit about Krum, and I figured it out then. I think I told you the next year, and you realized how utterly blind you'd been."

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I did have my ideas before that, you know."

"Of course you did."

'I did!"

"I am not doubting you. But, it was so hard not to just burst when you two were being so ignorant today."

"What d'you mean?" I inquired, while still holding onto Hermione. There was no bloody chance I was letting her get away again.

"First, it was last night when I saw you dancing with Hermione. I knew you didn't have a damn clue who each other were because you were actually dancing. I almost died from laughing so hard. And, best of all, you still didn't get it this morning. Even when you...." The rest of her statement was completely unintelligible she was laughing so hard. I'm afraid I may have to charm my sister at some point today. But, that's alright. I'll do it tomorrow. I squeezed Hermione with my contented embrace.

"Then you two morons didn't get the sweater thing. I mean, how obvious does she have to be. Ginny's and my sweater are the same color and we're a...couple. You two have the same sweater color because she wants you to be a...couple. Even I figured that one out by myself."

"I am personally ashamed of you Hermione. You were so close to getting that one. Oh well. You figured it out in the end. And it was so cute with the dancing and whatnot. Though, Hermione, why you want to kiss Ron is completely incomprehensible. I don't get it at all. He's a bit repulsive."

"I completely agree. Ron's a bit disgusting, snoring all the time, slobbering all about when he's sleeping. And he eats like a starving baboon."

"I do not!"

"Ron, love, you do, but that's alright because I love you anyways."

"Do you really?"

"Yeah, a bit. I love you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, even if you drool on the curtains."

"I love you, too, Hermione Jane Granger. Though, I don't know if I can spend all that time in the library."

"Awwwwwwww! They're so sweet! Aren't they Harry?"

"Ginny, do I detect a tone of sarcasm...and a bit of mockery in that voice of yours?"

"No, not at all, my dear sister-in-law."

"Sister-in-law! Aren't we jumping the gun a bit there? We...I don't know...started seeing each other about five minutes ago!"

"That still doesn't change the fact you're going to get married."

I decided to ignore the conversation from that point. I didn't want to think about marriage. It just wasn't one of the things I wanted to contemplate at the moment. I had my family, my friends, a warm fire, Christmas time, food, shelter, and most importantly, Hermione. I had lots of better things to think about. My eyes skimmed around the room, and lay to rest on the present (that turned out to be much, much better than I ever dreamed it would be) I had gotten Hermione. She had left it open on the table (which was normally filled with page after page of Hermione's work) to a fairly recent picture of all of us, me, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny on the grounds. Colin took it. I made him give me a copy (and quite a few others) to put in the album of us that I made for Hermione. In the photograph, Harry and Ginny seem to be off to one side of the picture doing things that I would have to speak to them about, while Hermione and I appear to be doing much the same thing on the other side. It was as damn close to perfect as any picture I had ever seen. Have I ever told you how much I need to thank Colin?