He was sitting in the stands, just where she expected him to be. The sun hadn't even fully risen in the sky yet; it was still inching its way up from the horizon, playing peek-a-boo behind the thin film of milky clouds.

And yet, there he was.

Hermione smiled as she watched him, braving the bitter cold. The winter winds had come a season too early, and she was certain that underneath those layers and layers of clothing he wore--the wool cloak he'd thrown over his Hogwarts robes, that ever-familiar Weasley jumper, and the turtleneck she'd given him on his last birthday--he was probably freezing.

Of course, he'd never admit it. Ron liked to give off the impression that he complained about anything and everything ("If I'm this cranky now, what'll I be like when I'm old and really grumpy?"), priding himself on keeping an inventory of snide remarks ready and waiting for just the right occasion. But the truth was, that wasn't really Ron at all. Hermione knew better.

This was the Ron she knew. This was the Ron that only a privileged few knew, the lucky ones who got that rare glimpse into an even rarer soul: someone who would willingly roll out of bed before dawn had even broken, who would let his teeth chatter against the wind and run the risk of catching the flu, just to watch their best friend practice for tomorrow's all-important match against Slytherin, all without a single word of protest, just because Harry "needs our moral support."

She sat down right beside him, letting out a long-overdue shiver before she slid her arms around his waist and nestled close. Almost automatically, he wrapped an arm around her--it always amazed her how perfectly she fit in his arms--and brought her even closer against his body.

"Morning," he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Mmm," she said lazily, stifling a yawn. "Why didn't you wake me?"

He shrugged. "Reckon you'd want to sleep in. You stayed up pretty late last night working on that Arithmancy homework of yours..."

She giggled and snuggled in closer, handing him a piece of toast she'd smuggled out of the kitchens before breakfast had even been served (Ron liked to take full credit for her "journey into a life of crime," though Hermione insisted that she visited the kitchens only to check on the house-elves).

"And how would you know that?" she said. "I thought you'd gone up to bed long before then."

There it was. That boyish, lopsided grin she loved, that he said she brought out more often than anyone else in the whole world.

"Well... I did," he said. "But then I snuck back down after a while just to see if you were still working." He looked down at her and arched an eyebrow disapprovingly. "And you were."

"Prefect's privileges."

He chuckled. "Right, I forgot..."

Harry made a figure-eight across the goal posts ("Showoff," Ron said with a laugh) and swooped down to where they were sitting. He gave them a quick wave, then serenaded them with obnoxious kissing noises ("Very funny, mate...") before veering off in the other direction, narrowly missing a roll that Hermione had thrown his way, all the while laughing heartily.

"D'you reckon he'll be teasing us like this for the rest of our lives?" Hermione said.

"Probably," Ron said, grinning. "Or at least until he gets his own girlfriend."

Hermione started to groan, but ended up laughing instead, then stuck her tongue out at Harry as he circled around them once more.

"I would have gotten up, you know."

Ron turned to her. "What?"

"This morning," she said. "You could have woken me, I wouldn't have minded."

"Oh, well... sorry."

She smiled. "It's all right."

He smiled back, but wasn't looking at her. Hermione gently took hold of his chin and turned his face towards hers.

"What?"

"What d'you mean what?"

"I mean, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Oh please, Ron Weasley," she said, "I've known you for five years, you don't think I can tell when something's bothering you?"

He took her hand off his face, but interlaced their fingers.

"It's nothing," he said. "Just... I was going to go up to the girls' dormitory to get you..."

"You were?"

"Yeah... only..."

"Only what?"

"I heard some voices coming down the staircase, and I..." He shook his head. "Never mind..."

Hermione straightened to look up at him. "And what? Who was it?"

"Oh, Lavender and Parvati..."

"I might've guessed," Hermione snorted. "So why did you let them stop you from coming up?"

"Because I... they were saying..." He sighed. "Hermione, I want to ask you something. Swear you'll tell me the truth?"

"Of course, Ron," she said, wondering what this could all be about. "What is it?"

"The two of us," he said. "Is it... such an outrageous idea?"

Well, that wasn't quite what she had been expecting.

"What??"

"Is it so ridiculous an idea? You and me, getting together?"

Suddenly, Hermione felt the urge to hex her overly-nosey roommates.

"What in the world did they say, Ron??"

"It doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does," she said. "It matters to me. Especially if what they said hurt you."

She saw the tips of his ears turn pink--and she was sure it wasn't from the gust of wind that had just blown their way.

"Oh, it was just talk," he said.

"What kind of talk?"

"Parvati said that she knew it would only be a matter of time before we got together, and Lavender said she always thought so too, because of the way we'd act around each other, except..."

"What? Except what?"

He sighed again. Whatever it was, he obviously didn't relish in relaying it to her. Now Hermione really was angry.

"Except she couldn't figure out why... you picked the other best friend..."

Hermione's jaw dropped to the ground, as if a lead weight had been fastened to it.

"WHAT??"

Quietly, Ron continued. "She said Harry was the one with the looks, and the money, and the fame... and it figured you wouldn't go with the logical choice..."

Ooh, thought Hermione, Lavender Brown is a dead woman.

But she caught sight of Ron's face, and she knew any thoughts of revenge would have to wait for now. The pain in his eyes was just too much for her to bear. She brought her hand to his face and turned him towards her again.

"And what do you think, Ron?"

He looked at her, as if it were the most baffling question in the world. "Dunno," he finally said. "I reckon... it doesn't really matter... s'long as you're here. S'long as you're here to stay."

She smiled. "I am, I promise."

He returned her smile, then leaned down and kissed her.

"And that's all I need to hear."

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"You know why I love you?"

Redness invaded his cheeks again, and he shrugged.

"Because you do all the right things," she said. "You do them, even when the world doesn't shine its spotlight on you." She leaned in closer. "You just do them because you've got the biggest heart I've ever seen in anybody."

He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione placed a finger on his lips.

"And I am so proud... to be the one who gets to see you for who you really are, Ron Weasley."

He laughed softly, then said, "Then you'd appreciate it, if you could keep this quiet. I do have a reputation to uphold, after all..."

"Your secret's safe with me."

She hooked her arm behind his neck and drew him to her, kissing him right then and there in the stands. Somewhere nearby, she heard Harry's laughter, but for once, she didn't mind.

"Don't ever change, you two," she heard him say.

She felt Ron's smile against her mouth.