Congratulations, Ron

Ron was heading up the stairs to bed at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Most of his family, along with Harry and Hermione and several members of the Order of the Phoenix, had just enjoyed an impromptu party to celebrate Hermione and Ron, who had been named as Gryffindor prefects for the upcoming school year. No one was surprised that Hermione had been chosen, but Ron knew that even his own mother had thought that Harry would have been selected over Ron.

He felt a little ashamed of himself, not only for inwardly gloating, but also for following in the footsteps of his brother, Percy the Prat. Fred and George would surely continue to take the mickey out of him at every opportunity. It did feel good, he thought, to step out of the long shadow of his best friend, the Boy Who Lived. Ron didn't want to trade places with Harry, but after a lifetime of receiving his five older brothers' castoffs, it was refreshing to have something to himself, even if three of his older brothers had been prefects before him.

Ron's parents had rewarded him with a new broom, and he planned to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Oliver Wood had finished school, leaving the Keeper position open. Ron believed that Professor McGonagall would name either Alicia Spinnet or Angelina Johnson as the new Gryffindor team captain. Each of the older girls had been kind to him in the past, and Ron felt sure that he would be given a fair chance to try out for the team.

He was pondering the exciting possibilities of the upcoming school year when he heard Hermione calling to him from the doorway of a room they'd cleaned out earlier in the week.

"Ron, may I have a word with you?" she asked.

Merlin's pants, what now? Ron thought to himself. He figured Hermione was planning some grand farewell gesture for Kreacher on behalf of S.P.E.W. and wanted his help. Hermione had some odd ideas when it came to house-elves. Ron reckoned it was due to growing up among Muggles. He entered the room to join Hermione; she silently closed the door behind him.

"I wanted to talk to you...alone," Hermione began. She was looking down at her shoes, twirling a strand of hair with one hand.

Hermione doesn't twirl her hair, thought Ron. Over the summer, Fred and George had been cluing him in on how to act and talk around girls, and hair-twirling, they claimed, was a sure sign of a girl's interest.

Ron scarcely had time to process this discovery before Hermione continued. "I'm really glad we're going to be prefects together this year, Ron," she said in a quiet voice. She was inching closer to him now, and before he could think of a reply, she had placed her hands lightly on his chest. "Congratulations," she whispered as she rose onto her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips were so close to his, that even in his shock, he wondered if she had intended to kiss him on the cheek or on the mouth.

As he stood by the door, gobsmacked, Ron realized that Hermione had left her hands where she'd laid them upon his chest. She had an oddly inviting grin on her face. Ron was struck by how pretty she had become over the last year, especially as she stood before him in the candlelight. Of their own accord, his hands rose to her shoulders and gently pulled her closer. Ron heard himself say, "Congratulations," as he bent his head down and kissed Hermione back, just as she'd kissed him. They stood together, foreheads touching, for a few moments. Ron's mind was racing as fast as his heart while he worked up his nerve to make his next move...CRACK!

"Yes, Mistress, it's the Mudblood and one of the blood-traitor brats..." Kreacher muttered, not bothering to conceal his contempt. Ron bolted across the room to face the house-elf.

"Don't you dare use that filthy word!" Ron bellowed at Kreacher. Ron turned back to Hermione, just in time to see her slipping from the room. CRACK! Kreacher had Disapparated. Before Ron could collect himself enough to go after Hermione, he heard unsuccessfully stifled laughter coming from the dark, far corner of the large room. Two identical figures emerged from behind a long sofa.

"Tough break, lad," snickered George.

"Looked like you had her right where she wanted you," said Fred with a wink.

"Shut it," Ron shot back, assuming the familiar sullen expression he wore when Fred and George wound him up. "What're you gits doing in here spying on us, anyway?"

"You've misjudged us, little brother," answered Fred, in a mock expression of offence.

"We were, uh, storing the Venomous Tentacula seed pods that Dung so thoughtfully delivered this evening," explained George.

"...when the young lady in question opened the door..."continued Fred.

"...and we didn't think the new ickle prefect'd be too chuffed with our activities..." said George.

"...and so we did a quick bunk behind the sofa here," finished Fred.

"You should go after her, baby brother," encouraged George.

"You've some unfinished business there," Fred suggested.

"And we've some unfinished business here," George said, nodding his head toward the small bundle in Fred's hand.

With a withering glare at his older brothers, Ron sulked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He walked across the landing to the room Hermione shared with Ginny and knocked quietly. Hermione opened the door a crack.

"Oh, erm, hello," she stammered, poking her head around the door as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Ron glimpsed the sleeve of her dressing gown; she had already changed into her pajamas.

"I...I'm sorry about before," Ron mumbled, attempting a smile. "About the interruption, I mean."

"It's quite all right," Hermione said, blushing. "Kreacher can't help what he's become."

They stood in awkward silence on opposite sides of the heavy door to Hermione's room. The moment they had shared just a few minutes ago was beginning to feel like a far-away dream.

"Hermione, did you want -- "

"It's late," she interrupted, her voice trembling, "and we have a big day ahead of us. Let's go to bed."

Hermione glanced up at Ron with a horrified look on her face, clearly embarrassed by her choice of words. Before she could correct herself, her eyes met his.

"Goodnight, then," Ron said softly, smiling warmly. "Sweet dreams."

"You too," Hermione mumbled.

Ron turned to go upstairs to the room he shared with Harry. He wasn't sure what he'd been hoping would happen before Kreacher had interrupted, but his brief conversation with Hermione at her door had left him even more confused. He had dragged himself up a few steps when he heard Hermione's voice.

"Ron," Hermione called out hopefully.

He came back down to the landing to find Hermione outside her door.

"I meant what I said before," she said. "I'm glad it's us," she added.

"Same here," he replied.

Hermione's face wore the same inviting grin Ron had been unable to resist earlier. He had taken a step toward her when she closed the short distance between them and threw her arms around his neck. Stunned, he returned the embrace.

Ron was just beginning to appreciate the effect of Hermione's body pressed against his when she released him and darted into her room.

"Sweet dreams," she called out from behind the door, and then quietly closed it.

Ron's cheeks puffed up as he blew out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His mind was swarming with images of Hermione pulling him into dark corridors as they patrolled Gryffindor Tower at curfew. Ron had never before thought about snogging Hermione, at least not consciously; he just knew he didn't like seeing her with anyone else, especially international Quidditch players.

Ron quietly entered the room he shared with Harry, who was already asleep. He quickly changed out of his clothes and slipped into bed. Ron could still feel Hermione's arms around him, and see her face grinning up at him in the candlelight. He imagined her running to congratulate him after a Quidditch match...

Stuff Voldemort; this year's going to be brilliant.