The Girl With the Chocolate-Covered Eyes

Author's Notes: It's pretty long, but I think you'll like it. I defenitely do! Probably by best story... so R/R, please!

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The Girl with Chocolate Covered Eyes

* * *

It had been a very long, very hot day. Even at six o'clock in the evening, the air outside was quite warm, even for summer. Everyone in the house was tired from cleaning the house all day (and from Mrs. Weasley's yelling at them to do it right), and most were just lying in bed or on the couch or just doing something that didn't involve much energy, like playing wizard's chess. But even that seemed boring, so all Ron was left to do was lie in bed staring at the ceiling.

This is boring... this is boring... this is boring...

This had been going on for a while. Unlike Harry, who was in bed on the other side of the room, Ron couldn't even go to sleep because of how boring it was. He was afraid his dream would be boring too. And hot. Plus, he wasn't very sleepy. Just... tired. And a little sore.

Ron sighed. It was too quiet around the house. Mrs. Weasley was already in bed, her husband as well. Judging by the snoring coming from their room, Ron's guess was that dinner would be a little late tonight.

Hermione was at the Burrow too, though, but she was too busy talking to Ginny (what about, Ron didn't know or care to find out) in the sitting room.

Even Fred and George, who'd come home for a few weeks, were being quiet. Somehow this historic event wasn't quite the way Ron had imagined it. He almost missed their annoyance and crazy schemes, but neither was in the mood after having to degnome the lawn, and were downstairs playing some chess.

Ron couldn't wait for tomorrow, literally. His mum would probably want to throw a small party for Harry's birthday. Actually, it'd probably be a big party, seeing as how he'd finally be coming of age, and be considered an adult in the wizarding world. Bill would be coming too, with his wife-to-be, the beautiful Fleur Delacour--Ron's stomach did a double flip at the thought-- and they'd probably have a lot to catch up on, so there it was guaranteed that there'd be at least something to talk about.

Unfortunately, that was going to have to wait, because it was still July 30th, the most uneventful day Ron could remember (mind the one thing he did enjoy that day: Beating Hermione at wizard's chess.)

"Ron," Harry yawned, startling Ron, "if you're so bored, why not try, you know, DOING SOMETHING? You know, instead of disturbing those trying to sleep. Those who were trying to sleep, anyway."

"What?"

Ron was a little taken aback. He thought Harry was asleep.

"Does, 'This is boring, this is boring, this is boring' ring a bell?"

Oops. Ron didn't realize he was actually saying it out loud. He shook his head. "No, I mean, what'd you say?"

"I said," Harry replied, "you should do something with your time. Write something, or... or read something..."

"Harry, do I look like Hermione to you?"

Harry, whose sleepiness was slowly drifting away, grinned. "Sorry, mate. Not even close."

Ron threw a pillow at him, but due to Harry's Quidditch-enhanced reflexes, was hit it the head with it himself after Harry caught it.

"I'm bored. I can't wait for my birthday," Harry sighed.

"Neither can I. You're getting that explodes, though, from Fred and George," Ron informed.

"What are they giving me?" Harry was a bit confused, but not at all surprised.

"Dunno. I just heard them using 'Harry', 'present' and 'blow up' in the same sentence earlier. Though I'd give you a head's up," Ron responded casually.

For a minute, the two sat in silence, and all they could hear throughout the house was someone saying, "You can't make that move!" and occasional quiet giggling.

Finally, Harry broke the silence with a sneeze.

"Bless you."

"Thanks. Hey," he added as he sat up, "you wanna play chess or something?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah. If you wanna play, go ahead, but you'll have to wait for Fred and George to finish playing. They're using the only set in the house."

"Fine, I'll play winner," Harry said, and with that, shut the door behind him to head downstairs.

Ron was left alone, with nothing to do.

Unless...

* * *

Dear ____________,

How's your summer going?

"No, no, no!"

Right after Ron had decided to take Harry's advice and read a book, he cracked open one that was lying beside his trunk, his Charms book, but quickly decided that books really were meant to be read during the school year, and not as a last resort during summer. So he took another route and went for writing a letter, but only ended out crumpling it up. The second one too. This was his third.

Yes, Ron had quite a few friends he hadn't heard from in a long time, and it would be nice to catch up with them, but frankly, there wasn't anyone he was particularly concerned about contacting at the moment. The two people Ron usually wrote to were already at the Burrow with him. Well, downstairs, but at the Burrow nonetheless.

So... what was left to do?

Ron sighed gazed out the window and noticed it was getting dark now, stars just beginning to peek out from the light blue blanket they were being disguised with. He'd lost an entire day of his life to boredom.

He absently grabbed his quill once again and began scribbling random rubbish. Yes, people can get that bored.

"This is pathetic," Ron muttered to himself.

He looked back up out the window, and he could clearly see the full brightness of the stars now. They were beautiful. They reminded him of something, something Ron couldn't quite put his finger on.

Ron lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. All he did was blink a couple of times before looking all around his room, desperate for anything remotely interesting to somehow magically appear. There was a lot of brown in his room, he realized. Aside from a few Chudley Cannons posters, a scribbled on poster of Viktor Krum, the little "Win 100 Galleons - write poetry for the Daily Prophet!" newspaper clipping lying on the floor, and a bit of scarlet and gold decoration, it was mostly that color. Brown. Just like something else Ron couldn't quite place. All he knew was that that something had been in the back of his mind sometimes.

Okay, now I'm too bored. Ron shook his head and got up. If I keep this up. I'm going to lose my mind.

* * *

The five downstairs heard the rapid footsteps of someone descending on the stairs, and knew it was Ron, but they seemed to not really acknowledge this as he appeared at the doorway of the room.

"What's going on?" Ron asked as he plopped down on the plump couch, taking a seat right next to Ginny.

"Nothing much," Harry said nonchalantly. "These two--" he pointed at the twins "--still aren't done. Apparently I'm playing the one who wins forty-five out of ninety-nine games."

Almost out of habit, Ron turned toward Fred and George expecting them to say something, anything, but only to see Fred resting his chin on his fist while he watched George's just-moved queen thrash his bishop violently.

"We've just begun our thirty-first. Might take a while," George mumbled.

Automatically uninterested, Ron turned to his sister. "What about you, Ginny? Anything... exciting going on?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Sorry big brother. Just as bored as you are."

Again, Ron got the feeling there was something his mind was trying to bring up, but was unable to. There was something about her... that was almost it... but not really...

"Well, try reading something, Ron, if you're so bored," Hermione said casually.

Actually, it had been with the same tone everyone else had used. Ron guessed she hadn't thought of anything to do all day either.

"Oh yeah," Ron lied, "I've read two of them already, but I got kind of tired of it."

He could have sworn he heard a snort from Harry. Ron glared.

Giving up, Ron got on his feet and headed for the kitchen. Dinner should have been a long time ago. Oh well. Ron opened up a cabinet door for a quick snack and found only a chocolate bar.

"That'll do."

But despite his brothers' unusual quiet behavior, he had been living with Fred and George long enough to know that you never know.

As he unwrapped the bar he made sure to examine it carefully for anything unusual in it, such as a spot or an out-of-place bump, or anything else that might indicate he was about to become Fred and George's test subject for their newest addition to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

No, he thought, turning it around. Anyone would have thought he was being paranoid had they seen him, but it was better to be safe than sorry about having a pink nose or something. I think it's safe. It's all smooth. It smells normal. It's dark brown, as it should be...

Dark brown. That's it. That triggered something.

"So," Ron heard Harry say, "are you planning on playing Quidditch next term?"

"Sure, but I think I'll ask for another broom. I need a new one after what Fred and George did a few weeks ago."

"It was Geor--"

"It was Fred!"

Ron strode back into the living room and took a bite of his chocolate bar just in time to hear Hermione say, "Well, honestly, I don't know what the big deal with the sport is."

"What, Vicky never explained it to you? It's all he lives for," Ron blurted without thinking. Great. He did that a lot.

Hermione instantly whirled around to face him, irritation playing at her eyes.

"Ronald, how many times--"

"So," Ginny said loudly, obviously trying to avoid a headache, "to answer your question, Harry, yes."

"What? Oh. Yeah. So, Quidditch? Yeah," Harry babbled stupidly.

Ginny smacked her forehead.

Hermione didn't seem to notice the interruption. "Ronald, what is it with you and Vick- er, Viktor?!"

Ron smirked. "You were going to say 'Vicky', weren't you?"

"Ron!"

"You were!"

"That- you- don't change the subject, I-Ronald, what is the matter with you?!"

Hermione ranted furiously, though her lips were slowly curving, even as she was only trying to keep her angry face.

Harry and Ginny were exchanging amused looks, fighting back laughter.

"What is so funny? You're only encouraging him!"

"Nothing," Harry said, grinning. "But now that you mention it Hermione, Ron, you have a little something on your face."

Ron expressed a confused look on his face and searched around the room for a mirror until he found his own reflection on the window, against its dark contents from the outside. And what he saw made him want to--

"FRED! GEORGE! What did you feed me?!"

Immediately the culprits burst out laughing, as did Ginny and Harry and Hermione.

Looking again to his reflection, he saw the stain on his face was growing. He obviously didn't check the chocolate bar close enough, though it didn't matter, because a jinx to make his face grow brown under his nose, giving the impression of some sort of abnormal mustache, was most likely undetectable anyway.

"We--"

"Didn't feed you anything."

"You ate it yourself."

"But thanks for testing our newest product:"

"The Mocha Mustache Bars!"

Ron could feel the effects of the chocolate bar mixing in with a entirely new red stain creeping up his neck, only adding to the others' amusement.

Though he had to admit to himself, it wasn't a bad idea of his brothers'. He wanted to laugh despite himself, but two things stopped him. One: He wasn't going to go along with it. He was mad. Two: He noticed something just then...

Hermione, who Ron had just been arguing with, had something in her eyes. It was like... her smile, her laugh had done something to them. To her entire appearance.

But her eyes...

As she laughed along with everyone else, nearly to tears as Ron expected, her eyes sparkled like something he'd seen earlier. A new twinkle was added every time she blinked, brightening her eyes without disturbing that beautiful dark brown in the large orbs. Even as her little nose crinkled when her eyes shrunk as she squinted from the laughter, they were... perfect. There was something there Ron hadn't seen in Ginny's eyes, even though they too were brown, and at this point, also shining. Hermione's were browner, deeper, Ron decided. Like two brown tiger's eye gemstones, glistening in the sun, except Hermione didn't need any sunlight for that; it was her melodious laughter livening her eyes up.

Then something in her eyes changed. They were still displaying the same hilarity of the moment, but were also showing the slightest trace of confusion. He'd been staring. For a while. Too long a while.

"Ron?" Hermione asked suddenly, but still smirking.

Then something hit Ron... harder than he thought. He just didn't know it yet. He just knew he wanted to win 100 Galleons.

Ron grinned as he quickly marched upstairs without an explanation, leaving the others perplexed, but still not quite done with living up their only entertainment of the day.

"Uh-oh! Ronniekins's lost his marbles!" was the last thing Ron heard before he set foot into his room again and shut the door.

* * *

Ron bent over and picked up the crumpled newspaper article on the floor and smiled.

"Win 100 Galleons - write poetry for the Daily Prophet! "

The title came to Ron automatically. He wasn't sure how, and he wasn't sure why, he just knew that what he had to write down what he'd just seen. What he saw was amazing, and the only way someone could possibly be uninterested was... actually, there was no way.

And he knew nothing else.

Of course.

This was Ron.

He still didn't know what everyone else could see.

Boys.

So he began writing.

"The girl with chocolate-colored eyes..."

* * *

"Ron! RON!"

"What?" Ron called out, not looking away from his work.

"Ron, you better - hey! - you better get down here before all the food's gone! It's not

long before Fred - You got that off my plate!"

Ron winced when he looked down at his stomach and could have sworn a hippogriff wanted to fly out of it. Or maybe it was a dragon... Either way, Ron had to eat something within the next five seconds unless he wanted to pass out.

He quickly scribbled down the last word and dropped his quill on top of his paper and ran downstairs.

"The Girl with the Chocolate-Colored Eyes

She's the girl with the chocolate-colored eyes,

With infinite knowledge, large in size.

They have those brilliant stars, shining when she smiles.

The potency of a thousand Amortentia vials.

You'll lose yourself in her round of musical laughs,

You'll be amazed at the many tunes they have.

And the best is one you can't deny,

For the most extraordinary magic is in her eyes.

Yes, those that glisten with the brilliance of the stars,

But are as deep and dark as those delicious chocolate bars!

Those eyes always show the truth,

Whether it involves good or bad news.

But I can't deny I've seen those eyes showing the deepest of fury.

And yes... it's usually directed to me.

I've seen her eyes glowing with the most intense of fire,

And I've seen the frozen ice signaling the consequences will be dire.

But I can't run, can't help but keep staring,

Because she drowns me in a trance with her eyes' daring.

Then later the soften, and return the bliss,

As they are enhanced with the bright sun's kiss.

Or sometimes they show shock or surprise,

Whether I've angered her or done something nice.

Sometimes I can see her cunning schemes,

Though she's not always how she seems.

How can that rich brown be so enigmatic, so obvious at the same time?

It can be the way they shine... (I can't believe I'm making this rhyme!)

Yet the beautiful eyes are only part of the girl,

That one who one day changed my world.

Now sometimes she nags, sometimes she bosses,

But if she were gone, it'd be of my biggest losses.

She keeps me in check, out of any trouble,

Of course, sometimes, the way works double.

She's so clever, always knows what to do,

Always knows the "where," "when," "why," and "who."

But I can't deny

I especially love her eyes;

If only she knew she catches my own...

But I can't let her know.

I can see it, I know it, something she can't hide,

I have to keep this little obsession of mine.

So I'll keep looking, whenever I see a particular sparkle,

And I'll admire those eyes so remarkable.

Call them the smoky brown quartz on her face,

Or a shiny chocolate bar case.

All in all, her eyes don't lie,

What would I do? I think I would die...

Without the girl and those sparkling chocolate-colored eyes."

* * *

Dinner that night was actually not as quiet as Ron had imagined. Mainly because everyone was particularly ravenous. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were discussing plans for

Harry's party, the twins had been reenergized and were being as crazy as ever, and

Ginny and Hermione were talking and giggling, as usual.

"...Harry, dear, would you like more pumpkin juice?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Are you sure Harry?" Seventeen-year-olds need their strength," Fred teased.

"Oh, that reminds me! Bill and Phl- ahem, Fleur will be here by noon tomorrow! Oh, I better get the room ready..."

"Mum," Ginny whined, "Phlegm isn't going to be sleeping in my room again, is she?"

Ron smiled at the thought of having Fleur in the house. The women in the house weren't exactly happy about it, though, but then again, that would surely serve for more amusement later. Then he noticed Hermione glaring.

He quickly looked back down at his plate and continued eating. Like an animal. It wasn't long before his plate was completely empty. He and his brothers as well as Harry had been eating like savages that night.

"May I be excused?" Harry asked. Mrs. Weasley nodded (normally, she would have offered more food, but it was all gone for the night, unsurprisingly), and Harry made his way upstairs.

"Right behind you, mate," Ron called after him, and was in the process of standing up when he heard his mother gasp.

"Ron, what on Earth is on your face?"

Everyone else at the table began laughing as Ron's ears reddened. "Nothing," he mumbled, and ran upstairs after Harry, making sure to cover his face as he went.

By the time Ron reached his bedroom, Harry was already in, holding something to his face. When he heard Ron step in, he immediately looked up at him through wide eyes.

"What'cha looking at?" Ron asked, jumping onto his bed.

"Nothing," Harry replied, but Ron could see his lips curving into a smirk. Ron sighed.

"If it's still about the mustache--"

"The chocolate mustache? No, no," Harry said, holding back laughter, "More like the chocolate eyes."

A stone landed in the pit of Ron's stomach.

"What's this?" Harry asked, grinning like he had before.

Ron ran towards Harry, but Harry hid the poem behind his back. "What's this?" he asked again.

Ron reached behind Harry's back as he laughed, thinking the mustache had nothing on this. Harry laughed as he held the poem over his head and almost out of reach, but due to Ron's height, had to keep waving it in the air to keep him from getting it. Ron's face was growing redder by the second.

"It's a poem!"

"I can see that," Harry laughed.

Ron pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Accio poem!"

Instantly the paper in Harry's left hand left his grasp and flew into Ron's. Harry laughed, still.

"So what's this all that about?"

Ron glared at Harry, who was still grinning, his face still displaying utter amusement.

"I-er- I... It's a poem..."

"Yeah....?"

"...That I wrote for the Daily Prophet. If I win the contest, I could win 100 Galleons," Ron finished weakly.

"Well, then, why the embarrassment?"

"Well, it's not really something I'd be particularly happy about someone finding..."

"Yeah," Harry laughed, "that's true. So when are you going to enter it?"

Ron blushed again. "I don't know. I don't think I will."

"Why not?"

Ron looked down at what he'd written and scanned through it. "I don't think I'd win. Why bother?"

Harry shrugged. "I thought it was pretty good. You could win, y'know."

Ron shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. I really just wrote it to pass the time away, there's no point in doing anything with it."

There was a moment of silence in the room during which Ron sat on his bed and heard Harry chuckling again. He looked up. "What's so funny now?"

Harry shook his head, still chuckling. "Nothing, nothing..."

"No, there's something," Ron said accusingly, "what are you laughing at?"

Harry laughed again. "It just occurred to me: Where'd you get the inspiration for the poem?"

Ron could feel the fire growing in his ears, burning his skin, only to cause more laughter from Harry.

"I- well, no one really," Ron lied, "no...not really... I mean, I just- I was bored and- I didn't--"

"--Think of showing it to Hermione?" Harry finished. The crimson of Ron's ears was spreading.

"What? W-what for? Why- where would you get the idea of showing it to Hermione, I mean--"

"Ron, I just meant she could tell you what she thinks of it. You know how smart she is," Harry said , though there was still a teasing smile on his face.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Harry continued, "like she has some sort of... 'infinite knowledge' or something in her eyes!"

"Harry--!"

Just then there were light thumps of footsteps ascending on the stairs, and Ron quickly crumpled up the poem and looked around frantically, looking for a place to hide it. At last he simply stuffed the poem into one of the nearest drawers and jumped onto his bed trying to look normal.

"Uh...Ron, are you okay?"

Ron turned his head to see Hermione standing at the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand carelessly, "W-why would there be anything wrong?"

Hermione stared. "Well..." Ron noticed she quickly shifted her eyes towards the drawer in which he'd just hidden his poem, and looked for about a second. Ron gulped and silently prayed she hadn't heard anything.

"... I just thought I saw... Never mind. Um, Ginny's calling for you, she's downstairs in the kitchen." And with that, she left, leaving Harry to stare at Ron with the same grin on his face.

"Hermione! Actually, we were just talking about y--"

Ron ran towards Harry and tackled him, covering his mouth. "No we weren't!"

"Okay..." they heard Hermione say.

"Harry," Ron said, looking at his friend through narrowed eyes, "you will tell no one of this poem. You won't let anyone know about it, no matter what. Agreed?"

Harry tried to say something, but his voice was muffled by Ron's hand.

"Oh. Sorry," Ron apologized. Harry gasped in fresh air as Ron lifted his hand off his lips.

"You know, you really should wash your hands after dinner..."

"Harry..."

Harry smiled. "Fine. Agreed."

Even though he knew he was in for a lot of dishes to clean downstairs with Ginny, Ron was instantly relieved.

"But I still say you should show Hermione. She could tell you what she thinks after having those... chocolate brown eyes of hers read through it--"

"Shut up!"

"Does that bother you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Ron sighed. "Because.... because I... I can't let Hermione see it.... it's embarrassing," Ron said, his ears threatening to grow red again.

"And why is that?" Harry chuckled out.

Ron glared at Harry, knowing what he was thinking. "Because... Because not many brothers write bad poems like that for their sisters. She'll tell Ginny, Ginny will laugh her arse off..." Ron lied.

"Your sister?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes."

Silence followed again.

"But you know, I think she'd like it. She'll smile, and then there'll be two girls you can think of with 'brilliant stars in their eyes'--"

"I think I told you to shut up."

* * *

"Harry? Harry... HARRY!"

Instantly Harry's eyelids sprang open, revealing his startled emerald eyes as he looked up at the figures hovering over him, though they looked a bit blurry.

He reached over to the side of the bed and felt around for his glasses. He put them on and the image began to clear and the forms over his bed were becoming visible.

The first thing he saw was something red. It was Ginny. She was smiling, with another lump of red over her, Ron. Hermione right next to him.

"What--? What's going on?" he yawned.

The three looked at each other and started singing.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Harry, happy birthday to you!!!!!" Then from out of no where, a light shower of sparkling confetti swam in the air.

Harry smiled. He got sat up on his bed, and without warning, the two girls shyly came closer and gave him a kiss, one girl on each cheek, leaving Harry pleasantly surprised.

Ron made a face and patted Harry on the back and gave him a nice, "Happy birthday, mate."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"Happy birthday Harry," Ginny said shyly, not really looking him in the eye.

"Thanks," he said in response, equally shy.

Hermione looked at Ron and gave him a knowing smile, while he forced one in return. He wasn't sure why Hermione giving Harry a kiss bothered him so much (it was, after all, his birthday)... It just made him uncomfortable.

* * *

That morning wasn't very eventful, though it wasn't as boring as the day before. After all, the twins were over their quiet phase today.

Mrs. Weasley beamed when she saw Harry come downstairs, and quickly ran to him and gave him a tight bear hug. Too tight.

"Mum, the idea of a birthday is to celebrate Harry's birth, not choke him to death," Ron said.

"Oh of course," Mrs. Weasley said, finally releasing Harry, "I'm just so happy our little Harry is all grown up!" She looked as if she were just about to tear up.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, truly thankful and honored with the way Mrs. Weasley treated him as one of her own children, as Ron could see. He and his siblings all saw Harry as part of the family, like another brother (except, of course, for Ginny!)

"Now, Bill and Fleur will be here earlier than I thought, in about an hour, so I want all of you to behave," Mrs. stressed the word as she looked sternly at Fred and George.

"Who, us?"

* * *

Breakfast went on as usual with the twins rambling on about how great it was to finally be able to perform magic without having to worry about anyone being after him, to be able to Apparate wherever you want, and so on, Ron joining in on the conversation and congratulating Harry again, at the same time keeping an eye on anything Fred and George might've done over breakfast to 'celebrate', twin style. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were being a bit quiet, though they were eating quickly to get ready for the party. Ginny and Hermione were quietly chattering and giggling as usual. I wonder what they talk about all summer? Ron thought. What could be so interesting that the conversation never ends? It suddenly occurred to him they might be talking about boys, but quickly shook the thought away before coming to conclusions.

It was a little while into breakfast that the otherwise sunny summer morning began to cloud up. No one really noticed, however, due to lack of, well, caring. That was, of course, until Mrs. Weasley heard the light thumps on the window and realized it was the beginning of a light summer shower.

"Oh, drat! Oh, this just always has to happen to me," Mrs. Weasley said angrily.

"First, my son decides to show up with that-that--! Oh, and now Harry's party is going to be ruined! Or what if there is no party?!"

"Oh," Harry said, "it's, er, okay, Mrs. Weasley. You don't have to worry--"

"Yes, I do!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, startling everyone around the table. She calmed down after half a moment's silence and gently said, "Oh, Harry, dear, it's your birthday..." She sighed. "Do you mind if we have just a small dinner?"

"Wouldn't ask for more, Mrs. Weasley, thank you," Harry replied, still a little startled.. "But you really don't have to do this--"

"Nonsense, of course I do, don't I Arthur?"

"Of course!" Mr. Weasley responded enthusiastically. "You're part of the family!"

Before anyone else had a chance to say anything else, everyone's attention was instantly addressed by a sudden flash of lime green fire coming from the fireplace. Following this was a pair of figures standing precisely in the spot of the flash, which, after the flames died down, revealed to show a tall young man with vibrant red hair and his arm around a beautiful blonde, who at this point, was coughing slightly.

"Ahem, ahem... Bill, I told you we should 'ave Apparated.... 'Zis smoke is choking me," Fleur complained

The eyes of all the boys in the kitchen lit up as soon as they heard Fleur's voice. Ron looked at Harry, who was wearing the same grin on his face, and back at Fleur. She hadn't changed one bit since the last time they'd seen her. Actually, she still looked seventeen, like the first time they'd seen her, with her flowing silvery hair and big blue eyes, she had every trace of Veela in her blood. Though, sometimes her natural beauty was disturbed by her incessant whining.

That, of course, was the reason the girls and Mrs. Weasley could barely stand her. Not that they tried to hide it, though. The moment they'd seen Fleur come into the room, they exchanged dismal looks. They were obviously not as excited as Ron was about having her there.

"Bill!" Mrs. Weasley squealed delightedly. She practically jumped from her seat and ran to Bill, squeezing him much like the way she had done with Harry, leaving Fleur on the side with her arms crossed. But despite Mrs. Weasley's dislike for her, she didn't want to seem rude, especially seeing the way Fleur genuinely loved her son, despite his accident. After finally letting go of Bill (who, during which, had turned slightly purple) she sighed took a second to embrace Fleur lightly, and, as if that weren't surprising enough, Fleur returned the hug and smiled at her.

"'Ello, Mrs. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Call me Molly, dear, I already told you."

Everyone in the room was shocked; only Bill seemed to be smiling with his arms crossed.; everyone else was gaping at them, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, especially Hermione and Ginny. The girls were too shocked to do anything but stare, and who wouldn't be? Ron couldn't think of anything to say himself, though he distinctly heard Ginny mutter, "Traitor."

Hermione nodded in agreement and glowered at Fleur.

"Ronald, it wouldn't hurt to wipe the drool of your face," Hermione whispered dryly, glaring at him. Sure enough, there was a bit of goo hanging out of his mouth when he extended him arm and pulled it back to his face.

After a greeting from everyone, Bill and Fleur sat at the table and joined the family for breakfast. Apparently, there wasn't much to talk about except for the promotion Bill had received at Gringotts (the wedding was hardly talked about since it had been postponed for a couple of months). Everyone was happy for him, yes, but they were expecting something more exciting. After not seeing him for the past two months or so, Ron thought there'd be something worth sharing. He was actually wondering about his brother's current condition with... well, the accident he'd had at the end of the past Hogwarts term, but no one dared to ruin the happy news of the promotion. However, it was only a matter of time before Fleur changed the subject when it was starting to get boring. Of course.

"Molly, have you zought about ze wedding much?"

"Yes, and to be honest, I can't wait. It's going to be beautiful. I liked your idea about the colors."

The conversation turned to the wedding plans for a few minutes until Fleur brought something up.

"So...em, Molly... after the wedding, vat do you zink about grandchildren?"

Ron choked on his juice. Harry had to pat him on the back several times.

It took a while for the conversation to finally change.

* * *

The morning came and went and there was still no sign of an exploding gift. It was still raining outside, so it became official that all there would be tonight was a dinner, though Mrs. Weasley would not have it be a "simple" one. The least she figured to do was make it a big dinner, and make anything Harry wanted, the biggest cake she'd ever made, and decorations everywhere.

Ron was probably the only one who knew there'd be an extra something his mother hadn't planned for the party, courtesy of Fred and George. He just still didn't know what. In fact, he'd given up on figuring it out. Whatever Fred and George decided to keep secret, they did, and it was hardly ever detectable, even if it was a potential explosion. Ron absently rubbed his chin, where the chocolate stain was only slightly visible anymore.

The plans for the day had been non-stop Quidditch until the party. But since it was raining, there wasn't much to do but talk (Ginny and Hermione were really good at that) or play chess, watch someone else play chess, or play some other game that could be played indoors (Unfortunately for Fred and George, Quidditch wasn't in that category and got in trouble when they broke a vase by crashing into it with Harry's Firebolt).

Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen with Fleur and Bill, Mr. Weasley had gone to work, Ron was chewing on some Berty Bott's Beans and playing chess with Ginny, while the twins watched and made bets (all the while also taking time to test out the Mocha Mustaches themselves, as a punishment from Mrs. Weasley at finding out what they did to Ron, discovering there came complications depending on the age of the victim, having most of their faces turning brown). Hermione was watching the game too, but often paused to look over the rule book, much to Ron's annoyance.

However, the birthday boy was, Ron guessed, in the room, probably thinking. No one really wanted to bother him, though, no matter how much they wanted to ask questions or cheer him up. Even Mrs. Weasley decided to leave Harry alone for a while.

But things would be better by dinner. It was, after all, Harry's birthday.

When is dinner gonna be ready? Ron thought anxiously. What's for dinner anyway?

* * *

"Fleur, could you please go upstairs and find me my big wooden spoon? I think Fred and George must have been using it to mix those Chocolate Beards or whatever they call those things..."

Fleur sighed. "Yes, Molly."

As Fleur got up from her seat she tossed back her long hair and strutted over by the living room and up the stairs. She didn't mean to look like some sort of show-off. It came naturally. Along with a slight ditziness.

That was when Fleur realized she didn't even know where Fred and George's room was. But she didn't want Molly to think she couldn't even do the simplest thing... finding a spoon...

"Oh, zis is not a big house, I can find it..." Fleur mumbled to herself as she turned the knob of the first room she saw. Looking at the door she saw a small paper sign on it that read something like "Roonald Weezlib" in very messy handwriting. "Ugh... zose twins have 'ze strangest codes...."

Pushing the door open cautiously, Fleur tilted her head and peered into the room to make sure she didn't accidentally find a bathroom or something, or that there wasn't some sort of trap if it was, indeed, Fred and George's room.

Nothing. The bed was a bit undone, there were papers on the floor, but she couldn't see a wooden spoon. Fleur sighed and was about to leave, when something caught her eye. "Vy does Molly even need a spoon? Couldn't she use some zing else? For goodness sake, vat are vands for?! And-- oh? Vat's zis?"

One of the drawers was left almost wide open.

Curiosity never hurt anyone, right? After all, the spoon could be in there... That was what Fleur came up for in the first place, so she might as well take a peek.

Needless to say she was slightly disappointed to see nothing in there but what was clearly a couple of Sickles "hidden" in a rolled up sock and a crumpled up piece of paper.

Fleur's curiosity, however, needed to be satisfied somehow...

So she picked up the paper...

Ran her hand over it and smoothed it out a bit....

And smiled as her eyes traced the words on the paper.

Then she heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling her. "Fleur! Never mind, dear, I found the spoon! Well, no wonder I couldn't summon it, I was crushing it with the pot! I feel so foolish..."

"I'll be right down, Molly," Fleur hollered back, still smiling. She folded the paper back and put it where she'd found it and closed the drawer, and walked out into the hall.

"Fleur?"

Fleur turned around to see Harry standing by the doorway. She could tell he'd been pretty sad.

"Oh, 'Arry," Fleur said. She hadn't seen him standing there. He didn't think she was snooping did he? "Where 'ave you been? Everyone is in ze living room..."

"I've been here the whole time, just went to the bathroom," Harry said with a tone of suspicion in his voice, eyeing her much the same way. "What were you doing in Ron's room?"

"Ron? Oh, zat vas 'is room! I vas just--"

"Fleur, are you going to help me?"

"Coming!" And without another word, Fleur pranced away smiling (at Harry or at herself, who knows...), leaving Harry perplexed.

Until he walked into Ron's room to find the corner of the paper sticking out from the drawer...

The drawer in which Ron left his poem...

Which Harry agreed to not let anyone know about.

Oh, crap.

* * *

What was it with Ron's mouth and his brain that was so complicated to make the connection?

He wasn't even sure how one thing had led to another, Ron just knew he'd gone to an all-time low. Somehow, the conversation from the day before ended up bringing itself back up while George and Ginny played chess later that afternoon.

The conversation about the rules of chess somehow turned into talking about Quidditch, and that led to Hermione talking about how she didn't like the game, and, of course, that had to lead to one thing...

Viktor Krum.

Ron couldn't even remember what exactly he'd said to Hermione. He'd gotten so mad after Hermione took Vicky's side, talking about how--

"Sweet, honest, true, brave, loyal, interesting, a great listener, sensitive..."

--he was. How could she possibly think that after he--! He--! Well, he... Well, why was she so quick to defend him? Hermione hardly knew him! If Ron doesn't like him,

Hermione shouldn't like him... Well, maybe it'd be okay if she did. But not to think so highly of him! What made him oh-so-special?

All that was what was going on through Ron's mind at the time. Long story short, Ron finished everything up by saying every little thing he didn't like about Krum.

"He thinks he's so cool, he's not! You've heard Fred and George, you know, 'Dumb Krum'! How could you like him? I can't believe you believe every word he says to you, trust every word he says..."

"What, that's what you think?"

"Didn't you just hear me?"

Ron tossed onto his side on the couch and buried his head into the cushion. He couldn't believe that's what he'd said five minutes ago. He looked back up to see the twins giving him a look that said "You really did it this time".

He knew it.

He struggled to recollect the rest of what he'd said.

"Fine, then! Waste your time with a bloke like that! Maybe you're right, maybe you do belong together! You may be book-smart, but let's face it, you can be stupid when it comes to making decisions sometimes!"

That had been strike one.

Hermione's jaw dropped open, as did Fred's. George dropped his pawn on the chess board. Ginny only gaped at them.

"What did you say, Ronald?" Hermione'd asked calmly, though she was very obviously not happy.

Ron's gaze had fallen to the floor and he suddenly took in how interesting the carpet pattern really was.

"You heard me," he'd mumbled.

"Like what?" Hermione'd asked, though until now, Ron didn't realize he'd failed to notice that her voice had been cracking... he'd only noticed now as he tried to recall it all.

"Does that matter? You already know. Kissing a bloke you don't know... You know, he probably likes you because you're as annoying as him..."

Strike two. Why had he said that? What did that have to do with anything?

"...Always writing to him. What do you always write about? About how much you miss each other? Yeah, you've got to to write to each other every bloody day! About how much he wants to snog you half to death? Like you always did, I'm sure! About how 'smart' you are? Of course he says that, anyone's smarter than he is! He just noticed you more because you would always make it obvious, being the Know-It-All you are..."

"What is wrong with you?! Is it the fact that Viktor is more considerate than you? No, no, that can't be it, you obviously wouldn't care about consideration!"

Hermione had been exploding at this point. Everyone else just stared.

"Oh, no, it must be how much better at Quidditch he is at you! Yes, that must be it! But then again, who wouldn't be better than you at it? In fact, what does Quidditch have to do with anything? You can't do anything right! You-- You-- you jerk, you are the most--"

Ron smacked his head and rubbed his forehead. Why did he say what he had next?

"You know, Hermione, you talk too much! Ever since that day on the train when I first heard your bossy voice, I knew you'd be trouble, I knew I'd come to regret that day! Man, I wonder what it'd be like if it was Lavender had been the one who came in asking for Trevor, surely that would have been better. If we hadn't met, I wonder how many headaches I'd've avoided!"

Ron sighed as he thought about how silent the room had gotten when he finished. He knew he didn't mean what he said. He knew he wanted to apologize the second each word left his lips, but even if he had, Hermione wouldn't have heard him, because she'd gone silent as well. She looked as if she were about to reach for her wand in her back pocket, and Ron leaned back a little on the couch before Hermione ran upstairs without another word, Ginny following right after her after pulling out her own wand and holding it up to Ron's face. She didn't do anything, though, much to Ron's relief after that tense moment and instead smacked Ron in the back of the head. Hard. And for good reason, Ron decided. But he was, for some reason, still angry over what Hermione said.

Until now.

Now he just wanted to apologize. He couldn't stand feeling like such a jerk, especially to Hermione. But she wasn't going to forgive and forget just like that!

Why couldn't he just keep his big mouth shut?!

Why did Viktor Krum have to go to Hogwarts that year? It's not like he won the TriWizard Tournament!

And, why was Ron so mad?

He was left to think of that while Fred won their fifty-third match, beating George twenty-seven to twenty-six.

* * *

Harry simply thought it better not to tell Ron about Fleur finding the poem. After all, she might not have read it, right? Maybe she just found it and...

This is Fleur.

Well, what possible reason would Fleur have to tell anyone about it anyway? No one else would find out about it. Besides, maybe Ron wouldn't get too mad. In no way was this Harry's fault or problem. Ron did just leave it out there where anyone could have found it. Even Hermione.

Harry smiled at himself at imagining the look on Hermione's face if she found the poem.

"I wrote it for Ginny..."

Yeah. Right.

Who did Ron think he was kidding?

Harry laughed again. "Himself," he muttered silently.

Whatever. Ron won't be too mad anyway, right?

This is Ron.

Well, that didn't matter anyway. There was no reason for Ron to know. After all, there was no reason for anyone to find out about "The Girl With the Chocolate-Colored Eyes", right? So why should Ron know that Fleur found it? She probably didn't even think anything of it. Besides, like Ron said, it's not like the poem meant anything. It was just a way to kill some time, right?

Harry chuckled. Yeah, he thought, Right...

* * *

"Well, I've never heard it," Molly said as she stirred the contents of the pot slowly.

"Are you sure? You never 'ave? Never?"

"No, I think I'd remember..."

Fleur sighed and turned the other way. "Vat about you, Bill?"

"Nope," he said simply, turning the page of that morning's Daily Prophet.

"Bill, dear, could you stir for a minute while I look for some salt?"

"Why wouldn't the salt be in the kitchen?"

Just then the sound of someone choking was heard from the living room.

"Fred, George, this isn't sugar!"

Molly cocked an eyebrow and looked at Bill, and he sighed and nodded, standing up to stir the pot. While his mother left the room, Bill asked Fleur, "Where did you hear it anyway?"

Fleur shook her head. "No, no, I haven't heard it, I just saw it," she said.

"You saw it?"

"Yes," Fleur replied, "I saw it written down. The lyrics."

"What was it called?"

Fleur thought. "I can't remember. Some zing about... chocolate eyes...?"

Bill raised his eyebrows. "I see. Tell me more..."

* * *

The grandfather clock's largest hand moved from "mortal peril" (where they all were) to "work", signaling where Arthur Weasley had really been, to "home" before going back to "mortal peril". Just then he practically ran through the fireplace of the Burrow.

"Hello, dear, back so soon?"

Mr. Weasley gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek before quickly answering, "No, I just had to come as fast as I could to find my report. I left it here somewhere, I must have..."

"The one about the dangers of meddling with Muggle medicines?"

"Yes, with the special sectoin on that Pepty-Isbol stuff. Have you seen it? I have to present it for the entire department in about ten minutes."

"I think Bill was looking over it earlier. He might've left it in Ron's room."

"What was he doing in Ron's room?"

"I haven't a clue."

* * *

Upon entering Ron's room, Mr. Weasley immediately knew his speech was not going to be in there. Why would it?

Or maybe it was the piece of paper left on top of Ron's desk.

"Oh that must be it..." Mr. Weasley muttered quickly to himself.

However, when he neared the paper, he knew it couldn't be it. It wasn't even his handwriting all over it, but rather a messy scribbled bunch or words. He could see that before he even took it in his hand. When he did, he felt how wrinkled it was and was about to leave without paying it any mind, when something told him to keep his

eye on it.

"Hey, dad," he heard someone call out suddenly, "it was in your bag the whole time! Someone's getting a little too stressed out!"

"Oh," Mr. Weasley said distractedly, "I'll be right there." He didn't take his eyes off the paper.

* * *

When Mr. Weasley finally got off work, the first thing he had to do was ask Molly,

"Have you heard of a song of some sort called 'Chocolate Eyes', or something of that sort?"

Mrs. Weasley, who'd been continuously flicking her wand over a big bowl of chopped potatoes and was mashing them little by little with one of her specialty cooking charms, looked up from the food and gave her husband a quizzical look.

"No... am I the only one who hasn't?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Weasley inquired.

"Well, Fleur was babbling on earlier about some song she'd seen somewhere and wanted to know if I'd ever heard it," she answered. "Why?"

Mr. Weasley proceeded to tell Molly about what he'd read earlier. Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Oh, no, I've never even heard of it. Sound like a very nice song, though. Who sings it?"

Arthur shrugged.

"Well, what are the lyrics? Do you at least remember that?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she stood up to check on her pumpkin pie.

Mr. Weasley scratched his head. "I can't remember much. I can tell you some parts, though. It started with the line, 'She's the girl with the chocolate-colored eyes'..."

Mrs. Weasley listened with one ear as she stirred the pot a couple of times and sat back down.

* * *

Ron had felt slightly queasy all day since his argument with Hermione, and even as he stuffed his mouth with chicken and mashed potatoes and got gravy all around his lips (which eerily reminded him of the previous days' events), he still had an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

At least Harry was having a good birthday, though, and a good dinner party. He'd also gotten several owls from Hagrid, Neville, and other friends, even from professor McGonagall, all with a card and gift attached.

Harry'd opened most of his presents, already, his favorite probably being the huge chocolate cake Mrs. Weasley had made for him, Ron thought (it was certainly his favorite). When Harry saw the cake, he (not only looked at Ron and gave him a look and laughed at how it was "chocolate") decided to wait to open the rest, and dig in, as did everyone else. Ron was still slightly suspicious of Fred and George. Honestly, a 2000-Galleon certificate to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and his own wizard chess set? Something wasn't right. True, that was a lot of money, but not the kind of present the Dangerous Duo would give.

But what made Ron feel really uneasy while he looked at Fred and George through narrowed eyes, was that Hermione was looking at him the same way, and Ginny just shook her head.

Ron sighed. That dinner, though there was plenty to eat, was not a very good one for him. Other than the fact that he and Hermione had gotten into that heated argument, and the fact that he had eaten salty chocolate covered raisins, was that he was afraid of having someone find the poem he'd written.

He shook the thought away. Who would find out? Why would anyone find out, and why would they even care?

He chuckled nervously to himself. That didn't make him feel much better.

Then Fleur's voice broke into Ron's thoughts, though little did he know that

something was about to ruin his entire night.

"Vell, are ve going to sing "'Appy Birthday" or not?"

"Right!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, putting down her wand as she was about to cut the cake, and clapped her hands together. "Everyone, a the count of three. One, two..."

Ron grinned as he saw the smilie--but slightly embarrassed--look on Harry's face.

"...Three!"

Everyone at the table began to chant:

"Happy birthday to you.... happy birthday to you.... happy birthday dear Harry....HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!"

Everyone immediately clapped and cheered for the birthday boy as he blew out the candles off his cake.

"Bill," Fleur said after about a minute, "do you still not know vhere zat song is from?"

"No," Bill replied. Ron was only casually overhearing their conversation at that point since they were sitting right next to him at the table, not really paying attention though. "But I um... You said it was a song?" Bill asked somewhat awkwardly for some reason.

What Ron couldn't see was that Bill had cast a very quick sideways glance at him through the corner of his eye.

"Yes."

"Oh are you still on about that--what was it? Chocolate... something?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ron could have sworn he felt his heart stop for a moment, but only a moment as he thought, No... no it couldn't be. Now it's going to be every time I hear the word 'chocolate'....

He unconsciously looked over at Hermione, who was laughing at something George had said. She saw him looking and her smile faltered slightly and she rolled her eyes before turning back to Fred. Sitting next to her was Harry, whose attention, Ron noticed, must have been caught by the word "chocolate" as well. For some reason.

"Fleur, I think you're getting some sort of obsession with that song, and you haven't even heard it yet."

"But it is so sweet!" Fleur explained.

"Well, maybe if you sang it Fleur, it might ring a bell," Mrs. Weasley suggested.

"I zink I vill," Fleur said smugly as she stood from the table and cleared her throat.

The other conversations at the table slowly faded as their attention was diverted towards Fleur, who'd cleared her throat a second time, louder this time, to catch the spotlight.

"Has anyvone heard zis song... about.... some zing about chocolate eyes?"

Ron dropped his fork and he slowly turned his head in Harry's direction with a dangerously blank expression.

Ginny's sighed. "No, Phlegm--Fleur!"

"Vat did you call me?"

Ginny stared. "Fleur," she replied with a sweet smile.

As Fleur cleared her throat for the third time, Harry's face went from showing shock to sympathy to a mixture of the both with added anticipation. Ron couldn't move.

"It goes some zing like zis:

She is ze girl vit ze chocolate-covered eyes!

Vit fit knowledge, those large eyes!

Potions... shine ven she smiles,

And she laughs like... like... music..."

Though Fleur's voice itself was actually rather lovely, her singing skills were not. No one at the table knew what to say or do except just sit there and listen to Fleur continue her mysterious song. She herself had a rather confused look on her face, as though she were barely comprehending what her mind was telling her to say.

Ron couldn't move. He could barely even think. His mind had been drawing a blank. If he thought a stone had landed in the pit of his stomach when he saw Harry reading the poem, Fleur's singing had triggered an avalanche starting at his throat and landing

so hard on his stomach, he thought the rocks were about to puncture it.

Finally daring to look around at everyone else, he could see the looks on their faces clearly now. Fred and George kept sparing glances at each other in between Fleur's verses and stifled back laughter. Mr. Weasley was actually listening intently to Fleur, though looking slightly confused. Not once did he look at Ron, though he did look tempted for some reason.

But he couldn't have known.

All the while his body felt numb, and wanted nothing more than to Disapparate into his room, which he would have done if he wasn't so.... well, if there wasn't some sort of force keeping him still, as if in some sort of Binding charm. If his embarrassment were pain, Fleur would be performing the Cruciatus on him right now.

BUT HOW COULD SHE HAVE FOUND OUT?!!

It didn't matter, because Ron felt as if he had "I wrote it and I wrote it for HERMIONE!!!" written all over his face. But looking around he noticed the only one staring at him was Bill, but he couldn't have known. Harry kept his eyes determinately on his plate, trying not to laugh.

Thanks a lot, Harry.

Ron took a deep breath and squinted as if in pain and turned the other way. Ginny had the strangest look on her face. It showed a mixture of sympathy, impatience, annoyance, yet amusement. Sympathy for herself, impatience of her own, annoyance at Fleur, and amusement because it was, after all, amusing in some twisted... loud way.

"...And ze sun lightens them when the chocolate gets softer..."

Ginny snorted.

While she sang, a flash of images flashes in Ron's mind in mere seconds. The newspaper article clipping. The chocolate bar. Everyone laughing at his Mocha Mustache. His quill moving quickly on the paper. Harry's face at seeing the poem. Hermione coming into the room and looking at the drawer. Himself telling Harry not to let anyone know about the poem. Hermione storming out of the living room.

He felt sick to his stomach at the memory.

The one person Ron couldn't bare to look at caught his attention last. Hermione, who was sitting right next to Ginny, had a somewhat different expression on her face than the others. Ron only kept a sideways glance at her, for he thought he'd probably die if she noticed him looking, but he could clearly see the way she looked. She, too, wanted to laugh, but although she did look a bit annoyed at Fleur, and a little sympathetic, she didn't look as snotty as Ginny did. In fact, if Ron didn't know any better (and if it weren't Fleur singing), Hermione almost looked like she was actually enjoying it. Well, the "song" anyway. The main feature on her face was her smile.

Though she had her eyebrows raised, signaling the words "What the heck is wrong with her?" and "Okay... this is... strange" and "I'd rather be reading a book right now" presumably crossing her mind, her eyes were twinkling from all the giggles.

And then what didn't hit him before hit him now.

"...Call zem brown diamonds or a chocolate wrapper on her face..."

Several versions of Ron's own voice were echoing in his head all at once while Fleur finished her song. All he could think was...

It's not even a song!

How did you find out?!

'You will tell no one...'

'Fine, agreed...'

Harry, I'm going to kill you.

"...If she left, I zink I vould die..."

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up! Stop singing!

"...Vithout ze girl vit ze chocolate-covered eyes!"

That's not even the title! Chocolate colored. Chocolate colored.

"IT'S CHOCOLATE COLORED EYES!"

It was the longest second and a half of Ron's life. It had taken the click of his teeth when his mouth closed for him to realize the words had been able to escape his lips instead of staying in his head like he'd meant them to, and that he'd just exploded in front of everyone at the table. He knew his face must have been as red as his hair.

Everyone went silent, mind the "Hmph!" from Fleur as she crossed her arms in irritation of having Ron yell and interrupt her new favorite song. Everyone stared, and he knew Hermione did too, though he kept his eyes looking straight ahead and ignored Harry's jaw dropping, or Bill's smirk.

And when the bloody hell did Bill find out, as he obviously did?!!

Then Fred and George finally, for once in his life, saved him.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley asked, "what--?"

She was interrupted by a huge chunk of chocolate cake that was instantly thrown into her face when the whole thing exploded.

The exploding gift!

In the blink of an eye the entire kitchen was covered in a messy brown substance as the twins laughed their heads off.

"FRED! GEORGE! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME DID YOU TO DO MY CAKE?!"

Mrs. Weasley raged.

The twins burst out laughing, as did almost everyone else, though Fleur actually screamed when she looked down and realized her pretty pink skirt had been ruined.

Somehow the whole thing turned into a food fight when Fred made a comment about

the skirt and Fleur threw a piece of cake that had landed on her shirt at him, but it landed on George when Fred ducked. Ginny laughed, and chocolate frosting was flicked at her too. One thing led to another, and within seconds everyone was flinging food at each other. All except Ron and his mother, that is.

Ron took the opportunity of everyone's distraction and laughing to run to his room,

something he'd been wanting to do since he heard the words "Chocolate-covered eyes".

But as he ascended on the stairs, he felt a pair of eyes on him.

Not that he really cared.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO BAKE THIS? Harry, dear, I'm so sorry for having these two ruin everything... GEORGE, FRED APOLOGIZE TO HIM...!"

* * *

It was only about five minutes before Ron heard Harry come in. He was still chuckling to himself as Mrs. Weasley's yells were still echoing through the house and was covered in a chocolate mess. One look at Ron, though, and he stopped laughing, but couldn't help but grin.

"Ron--"

"YOU SHOWED IT TO HER?! Harry, I'm going to kill you for this!"

Ron sat up and pointed his wand at Harry.

"Ron," Harry said, "what are you going to do? You barely passed Charms."

Seeing that his best friend was right, Ron put down his wand, sighed, and lay back down on his bed. He groaned miserably.

"Harry! Why did you show it to her?" Ron whined.

"I didn't show it to her!" Harry said defensively.

"Oh yeah," Ron said sarcastically, "right, so how'd she find out then? And how did Bill find out? What about my dad, does he know too?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," Harry said. He looked confused. "I don't know how Bill found out, I didn't even know he did. And your dad, I don't think he knew. As for Fleur..." Harry sat down on the other bed and scratched his head uncomfortably.

"What about her?" Ron asked impatiently.

"Well... I saw her coming out of your room for some reason. This afternoon. I didn't know why, but I did suspect something about the poem, but I figured there was no reason for her to have read it. I'd been in the bathroom, otherwise I'd've made sure she didn't see anything."

"And then she probably showed Bill," Ron concluded.

"Just a good thing he didn't show anyone else," said Harry simply.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "I think I might've died if..."

"If what?"

"If Fred and George had found it. Or Ginny of course."

"Or Hermione."

The same tell-tale red stain that had been bothering his constantly these past two days came back to torment Ron as it crept up his face.

"Harry, why do you keep bringing up Hermione, I already told you--"

"Oh, come on, mate," Harry laughed, "who do you think you're fooling? You didn't write that poem for Ginny, we both know it!"

"What are you trying to say?" Ron asked as he lay back further and became instantly fascinated with he ceiling for some reason, though he knew exactly what Harry was trying to say.

But there was a moment of silence. That had been happening a lot lately.

Then Harry smiled as he quietly asked, "You really do like her, don't you?"

"What?! Who?"

Harry laughed. "Hermione, of course!"

Ron fet the blood in his face drain as he sprang up from his bed indignantly said,

"WHAT?! No! No, of course not! How could you get that idea, are you mental? No-- No, I-- NO! Where would you--? Why do you--? How could you think--? I wrote it for Ginny! She-- You're crazy, Harry! I-- no, I just-- Hermione-- I don't-- What--!"

"Ron!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THESE THINGS?!"

Harry burst into laughter as Ron fell exhaustedly back onto his bed. How could he just give up like that? A huge rock left over from the avalanche, however, seemed to have shrunk to lift that weight off his chest, and he felt oddly relieved somehow. He chuckled a bit nervously too.

"Well, to anyone with eyes, it's only obvious..."

Ron's eyes popped open. He pulled out his wand and flicked it gently to close the door before asking, "What--? Does that mean Hermione...?"

Harry shook his head. "Actually, I think she's the only one blind to it. Funny, she's usually the smart one..."

Ron didn't know what to say except... "You can't tell her."

"Why not?" Harry asked, taking a seat next to Ron.

Ron thought for a moment before looking at Harry and seriously and quietly (and slightly bitterly) saying, "I love her eyes."

Harry looked confused.

Ron sighed. "If only she knew she catches my own... But I can't let her know."

"Why?" Harry asked again, a bit more impatiently this time.

"Because! She just... 'I can see it, I know it, something she can't hide... I have to keep this little obsession of mine.' I wrote that part for a reason Harry. Would you have told Cho if you didn't already know she liked you?"

"That was different--"

"Maybe it was, but you can't tell Hermione."

Harry stared. "So you're going to keep this from her for the rest of your life? You know you won't be able to."

"No, no, I know. But she can't know... yet. And if she does, it better not be from you, got that?"

The someone knocked on the door. Ginny walked in, Hermione right behind her. They, too, were covered in chocolate cake, and giggling as usual.

"Hey Ron," Ginny said, licking her frosting-covered index finger, "why'd you leave? It was just getting fun!"

Ginny laughed as she picked a piece of cake off her hair and smeared its frosting on Ron's nose. He couldn't help but grin back.

Hermione, though she'd come into the room giggling, had gone quiet despite her smile. Ron could tell she probably wanted to say something, but was too stubborn to.

Harry looked up from the newspaper he'd picked up and asked, "Yeah, Ron, why did you leave?"

Ron's ears grew red as he glared at Harry.

"I had to... go to the bathroom. Besides, I felt a little tired," Ron said.

"Not that you could've stayed for the dinner," Hermione said suddenly, "even if it was Harry's birthday. So inconsiderate..."

"Actually, I don't mind, maybe he just didn't wanna get chocolate on his face or--"

Hermione scowled at Harry. He shrugged and resumed his reading.

Another awkward silence.

Ron sighed. "Hermione, there's something I have to tell you..."

Harry suddenly got up from the bed and grabbed Ginny's hand. "Hey, Ginny, I think I heard your someone calling you!"

"I didn't hear anything," Ginny said as he pulled her to the door.

"Well, I did, I think it was-er-Bill. There he goes again, come on, I want to talk to you about the... new... Quidditch... team... program thing," Harry said hurriedly and he and Ginny walked out the door.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Ginny asked, though she was already on her way out.

Ron and Hermione just stood there.

"He WHAT?" They heard Ginny ask loudly. Harry smacked his forehead, which was barely heard less than a moment before closing the door.

Harry...

"What did you have to tell me, Ronald?"

Ron came back to reality and realized Hermione was staring at him, waiting for him to say something.

"I, um.... Look, Hermione, I just want to apologize."

"I'm listening."

"Hermione, I'm sorry for everything I said earlier. I didn't mean any of it. It just bothered me that all you ever talk about is Krum and I--"

"Ronald! No one was talking about Viktor until you brought him up! Not today or yesterday, and.... and what is your problem with Viktor anyway?"

Ron didn't know what to say. What was going to be his excuse anyway?

"Hermione, I hate Vicky because you pay a lot of attention to him, you write to him every day and he's even kissed you before and I'm jealous because I'm secretly IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!"

Yeah, right, he could just hear it now!

"I just-- I don't like him, okay? He... he cost the Chudley Cannons the World Cup last year..."

"Ron," Hermione interrupted, "whatever your problem is with Viktor, I don't care. But you have no right to talk about anyone like that. What you said was really hurtful."

Nothing could have made Ron feel as low as he did that very moment. There was nothing he wanted less than to hurt Hermione. He felt ashamed for what he'd said, maybe even a bit disgusted, and he just wanted to explain that to her.

"I didn't mean any of it. I was just mad that you took Vicky's side."

"What side? I didn't even know there was a side!"

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean a single word I said."

Hermione looked up at him with those big brown eyes of hers.

I love her eyes...

"What about the part about the train--?"

"None of it. Hermione, who knows where I'd be- where I or even Harry would be if we hadn't met you that day? I'll tell you what: Even if by some strange series of true miracle he and I could have escaped Fluffy, or found some other player in chess to get the Sorcerer's Stone, or casually come across the Basilisk without getting killed, or guessed that Lupin was a werewolf and saved Sirius and Buckbeak somehow without someone smart enough to handle a Time-Turner, or gotten Harry through the Tournament, or escaped Umbridge, or been clever enough to memorize all those handy hexes to use against those Death Eaters last term... even then, then for SURE we would've at least failed Potions!"

Hermione laughed. It was music to Ron's ears.

"So...." Ron nervously said, "do you forgive me?"

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "Two conditions: One, you watch your mouth about Viktor. He's actually a good person, and a very good friend of mine."

Ron made a face, but nodded.

"And two: You have to forgive me too. I'm sorry for yelling at you and saying the things I did, I was being mean too, and I didn't mean to hurt you if I did."

"You did," Ron confessed.

Hermione just looked at him. "I'm sorry."

Ron smiled. "So.... we're still friends?"

Hermione made a confused face. "Ron, of course we are! Did you think we weren't anymore?"

Ron didn't say anything.

"Let's face it Ron-- The moment we met on the train constituted a binding magical unsigned agreement. After all we've been through, we're stuck with each other," she said, laughing.

Ron laughed too, and before he could say anything, Hermione walked right up to him and gave him a hug. Ron was almost too surprised to hug her back at first (almost), but he did. It couldn't lasted any longer than about two seconds, but those were the best two seconds Ron could remember, his heart leaping higher than ever.

Then they let go, Ron knew he must have had the stupidest grin on his face, but he didn't' care. He was just happy that Hermione was happy. She was grinning too, despite another awkward silence that filled the room while they avoided eye contact for a second or two. When they finally did make eye contact, Ron was grateful he didn't feel himself turning red, though, oddly enough, Hermione looked like she almost was.

Then Bill Apparated in. Thank Merlin, Ron thought. Bill obviously knew everything (he wasn't stupid, after all), so Ron thought he'd probably die had Bill seen him hugging Hermione. Embarrassment, maybe?

"Hey, am I interrupting anything?"

"No, why?"

"Well, Ron, really quick because Fleur's waiting for me downstairs, I was just wanted to ask you something," Bill said.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"I wanted to know if I could borrow some lines from your... it was supposed to be a poem, right?"

Ron's face went red, he knew it. Hermione stared.

"Ron? You wrote that... Chocolate Eyes thing?"

"Actually," said Bill, "what he wrote was much..." he smiled "...much better than the way Fleur made it sound."

"I--I, uh, no, Fleur must have--I didn't--"

"Calm down, Ron, I know you wrote it, and I know why," Bill said. He cast a quick sideways look at Hermione.

"W-w-what?" Ron stuttered.

"You wrote it for Ginny," Bill said simply.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked, curiosity showing in her eyes.

"Yeah. Right, Ron?"

Ron stared at his big brother for a few seconds. He was sure Bill knew. He knew the poem wasn't really meant for Ginny. But thank goodness he didn't say what he knew!

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, smiling, "Just don't tell her."

"Right," Bill said, and Ron could have sworn he saw him wink. "Well, I was wondering, since I liked your poem so much, if I could use some of the lines of it, maybe adjust them a bit, and use them for my wedding vows for Fleur?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "sure."

"Thanks," Bill said, and he left the room, smiling. At Ron and Hermione.

The two looked at each other. Finally, Hermione spoke. "Well, are you going to let me see it?"

Ron was a little taken aback. "See what?"

"The poem," Hermione said simply, "Bill said it was better than the version we heard at dinner, so I want to see it."

"Oh."

Ron pulled the crumpled up paper out of the drawer it was in and reluctantly handed it to Hermione.

There's no reason for her to know...

Yeah, I also said there was no reason for anyone to find out about the poem at all!

Hermione smiled. "Why the sudden inspiration?"

Ron pointed at the newspaper clipping on the floor and Hermione picked it up. She read it and asked, "So are you going to enter it?"

Well, now that everyone knew, what was left to lose?

"Sure," Ron said, "I think I will."

Hermione smiled as she began reading it. She looked up at Ron and beamed at him. "Ron, this is great! It's a really sweet poem."

Without really thinking as he looked in her eyes, he said, "It was written for a sweet girl."

"Ginny," Hermione said. "You have to show it to her too."

"What? Oh, right," Ron said, "Ginny."

Ron smiled as he watched those big glittering brown eyes move back and forth over the paper.

What would I do? I think I would die...

Without the girl and those chocolate-covered--

COLORED, darn it!

...Chocolate-colored Eyes...

* * *

That night, Hermione couldn't sleep. She just wasn't tired. She'd been tossing and turning all night, trying to find a comfortable position, but to no avail. She'd decided to get a drink of water but nothing made her feel comfortable, and she'd read all the books she had with her... Ginny'd already fallen asleep a long time ago, after one of their usual late-night talks and gossip, so all Hermione was left to do was stare up at the ceiling.

Unless...

"Lumos," Hermione whispered just quietly enough not to wake Ginny up. The tip of her wand magically lit up and she held it up to the paper in front of her and lifted her blanket over herself to cover it up. Suddenly, she heard Ginny move and held her breath. Hermione peeked out from under the blanket to make sure she hadn't woken her up. Ginny was still asleep, though Hermione distinctly heard Ginny mutter something about green eyes.

Hermione smiled to herself and she picked scrambled about and found the newspaper article she'd kept and had been sitting on accidentally.

"Win 100 Galleons- Write poetry for the Daily Prophet!"

She'd read and reread the rules, and after much thinking, she thought of the perfect title.

And she knew exactly why.

But this had nothing to do with the money.

Hermione sighed and smile as she picked up her quill and started writing.

"The Boy with Fiery Hair..."

* * *

The End

* * *

Author's Notes: Sorry it's taken so long to put up a new fic, but I've been working with serious writer's block! Actually, I've been working on it since about the time I wrote "Forgotten" and I finally finished! It all came from "Hey write a fic where Ron writes a song and Fleur sings it!" And I have to admit I'm kind of proud of myself. It's super long as you can see, and I was going to make it a chapter fic, but I thought, NO. This already happened twice before, not again! Even if it was going to be way longer and take a long time to finish and post, but YAY! I like it this way. Anyway, i'd rather know what YOU think, so please REVIEW!!! PRETTY PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE!!!

P.S. If anyone was a little confused about the scene when Ron's remembering the fight, the stuff in italics is Ron's memory. You know what I mean, right?