The many hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were buzzing about the upcoming Ball; even the suits of armor were clanking noisily about it throughout the day.
"So. Harry Potter," Ron Weasley said into his quill, holding it up to his mouth as a microphone as Harry had taught him over the years. Harry looked up from his Divination homework.
"Whew. Making up predictions is hard! What, Ron?" he asked a bit impatiently.
"WHO are you taking to the Fall Ball?" Ron asked in deep fake voice.
"I don't know! Everyone's been asking me that all day! I don't know," Harry trailed off as
Hermione's face popped into his mind suddenly: her soft brown locks, her porcelain skin, her gorgeous smile, her
deep big cinnamon eyes.
"What!?" he exclaimed as he felt someone shaking him and felt himself come back to reality to find his
best friend, not the pretty girl.
"Harry, you looked like someone put a memory charm on you! You got a glazed look on your face. You looked
pretty stupid, actually... are you OK?" Ron asked, smiling a bit.
"Yeah, Ron. I'm fine. I'm glad my face amuses you," Harry said crossly, turning back to his
homework.
"Amuse? It's my comic relief!" Ron said, laughing. Harry frowned at him and rolled his eyes. They fell
silent as they completed their predictions about what would happen to them in 10 years. Harry's last prediction
read, "I will die of a deadly disease called Wartolomew", while Ron's read "I will choke on my
brothers' Ton - Tongue Toffees and die a gruesome death." At half past nine, Harry stood up and stretched,
yawning loudly.
"I am unbelievably tired," Harry said. "G'night, Ron." With that, he gathered all his things
and trudged up to the 5th year dormitories. Ron shook his head at him, smiling, and started packing up his own
belongings. Just then, he heard the door to the common room open and someone run in. Ron looked up just in time to see
Hermione's tear-streaked face run and sit into one of the plush chairs facing away from everything in one of the
corners. Oh god. What happened? Ron thought, panicking for a moment. Don't be stupid, Ron. Nothing
serious happened! Go see why she's crying, his mind snapped back at him. Ron slowly and quietly got up and
walked toward the chair. He could hear her quiet cries and occasional sniffles from about a foot away from where she
was sitting. He inched further, and when he peeked over the tall-backed chair just enough, he saw her, tears cascading
down her cheeks. She looks beautiful even when she's crying, Ron thought. It broke his heart to see her
cry. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, hug her, kiss her...Whoa, Ron. Slow down, his mind
warned. He took a deep breath and said softly, "Hermione?"
She looked up quickly and smiled a little. "Hi, Ron."
"What's wrong?" he asked her, leaning closer. Ron, be careful. You don't want her to
know! His mind cautioned. Ron immediately pulled back and stood up straight, standing next to the chair's
right arm. She shook her head.
"Nothing," she answered.
"Then why are you crying like a baby?" he asked, his voice a little louder this time. If he didn't
remain his composure, his feelings would unravel right there. She sighed deeply.
"It's stupid," she said, shaking her head.
"Hermione, I'm your friend. I'm here to listen. Come on. Tell me," he coaxed. She sighed
again.
"It's just...I've liked this boy in my Arithmancy class for a little while. Not a big crush or
anything. I just liked his personality, and he didn't look bad either. He was really nice to me on the first day of
classes and helped me with everything. Not that I needed it, but I appreciated it just the same. Today, I mustered up
what little courage I had and asked him to the Ball. And, well, let's just say he could pass for Malfoy's
clone, minus the looks," she answered, breaking down again. Ron's heart broke even more, but he managed to
regain his "friendly" façade. He briskly walked away from the chair towards the roaring fire.
"That's all? Hermione, I know you better than this. You never used to care about this stuff. Most of the
guys in this school are prats. Just get over it," he exclaimed, sitting down. He heard Hermione stand up. She
turned around.
"It's not that easy, Ron," she told him. Ron secretly agreed, but responded, "Sure it is,
Hermione! All you have to do is ogle another guy. I mean, there's no risk involved. Nothing bad. Just move
on," he shrugged. Hermione strode over quickly and stood in front of him.
"And what would YOU know about taking risks, Ron? Hmm? I don't see you asking anyone. Is that because you
think every girl you ask is going to turn you down? You're probably right. I take more risks in a day than you, and
I'M the 'boring' one," she retorted, her voice edged with anger. Ron's sympathy slowly turned to
anger. He stood up.
"Hermione, I take risks, OK? If I didn't, you would probably still be Petrified," he replied, his
anger rising.
"That's NOT the kind of risk I'm talking about and you know it. In fourth year, you were too stupid to
even notice my GENDER until AFTER the Yule Ball. You're too cowardly to take a chance. You're too afraid your
heart's going to get trampled on, so you take the safe way out. Well, not me, Ron," she exclaimed, crossing
her hands over her chest and looking down. Ron looked up, livid.
"I didn't ask you fourth year because I thought it would change our relationship if you said yes and
things...happened. I was LOOKING OUT for us. And secondly, don't judge me, Hermione. There are a lot of things you
don't know about me still," he answered.
"Really? Like what?" she asked with an edge.
"OK. If I'm so scared of taking risks, would I be able to do this?" he said, and without thinking, he
leaned in, placed his hands on her cheeks, and pressed his lips against hers.
Hermione's eyes opened wide in shock. Ron is kissing me! Her brain screamed. And I'm not
pulling away! Immediately followed. Ron slowly pulled away and looked into her eyes, where surprise replaced
anger. As Hermione stared back, she noticed that his bright blue eyes had flecks of green in them that shone
through.
"No, you wouldn't," she said, swallowing. Ron stepped back.
"All right, then," he said, straightening his already straight shirt. They just stood there, looking at
each other. "Ron." Hermione broke the silence.
"What?" he asked, a little afraid.
"I...I'm sorry I exploded at you like that," she said softly. At this, Ron approached her and placed
his hand on her left cheek, making her look at him.
"It's OK, 'Mione," he replied just as softly. He kissed her forehead, but her head tilted up more
as she had meant to look in his eyes, and their lips touched again. This time, they both relaxed into the kiss.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry couldn't sleep. He kept tossing and turning, thinking about the question he had been asked all day and the
one face that kept following. "Who are you going to ask to the Ball" was all his mind repeated over and over
again, and Hermione's flawless face beamed at him right after. Why is this happening to me all of a
sudden!? He thought, frustrated. Wait. No. The same thing happened last year. Remember? His brain
recalled. Harry now remembered. At the Yule Ball in their fourth year, Hermione had looked so pretty with her blue
dress robes and her soft hair piled up in a perfect bun, her smile big enough to light up all the hallways in Hogwarts.
Why didn't I ask her then!? He asked himself. Because I'm stupid, he answered
himself.
At about ten, he decided he couldn't take it anymore. He sighed and got up slowly as not to wake the others. He quietly opened the door to the dorms and tiptoed out, descending the stairs to the common room. He stopped dead on the second stair where he caught a clear glimpse of the scene taking place: Ron. Hermione. Kissing.