"Your father and I have things to do."

"Things? What things?" He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "And why've you got to do them tonight?"

"We have things to do for the Order, Ronald, and while I realize you're still a child, I would appreciate if you could remember there are things going on in this world that have little to nothing to do with your existence or your plans for a Friday night."

"Not my plans I'm worried about," he groused and kicked the edge of the cabinet. "You know he's taking her out tonight."

"I can only assume you mean Fred," Molly sighed and rested her hands on her plump hips, giving Ron an exasperated look, "and Hermione."

"She's two years younger than him."

"And yet she's an adult, Ron. Now, I realize that you've had a crush on Hermione for a while now, but you've got a girlfriend of your own who does happen to be staying here and I haven't yet set any restrictions on you, have I? You don't think I should give the same courtesy to your brother? Besides," she turned back to the over, opening the door to allow another tray of cookies to float out, "Hermione's got a good head on her shoulders and I don't worry about her."

"But it's Fred, Mum. You know how he is. He lets people do things that he knows'll get 'em in trouble. He lets people try his candies when he's only ever tested them on himself and George if we're lucky. You saw the spots Luna got the other day. Her dad was furious, she told me." He stubbed his toe on the floor, carefully not meeting his mother's gaze. "It's not that I don't trust Hermione, Mum, because I do. She's not that kind of girl or anything."

"And what," Mrs. Weasley asked dangerously, searching out her son's eyes, "exactly do you know about 'that kind of girl', Ron Weasley?"

"Nothing!" He held up his hands and backed away; shoving them behind his back to hide the three cookies he was holding. "I don't know anything about any kind of girl, except that Hermione's not like any kind of girl, honest."

"Hmph." She turned back to her baking, her hair falling in sweaty tendrils as she placed another pan in the oven, closing the heated chamber with a bang. "Regardless, you needn't worry about Fred's date. It's already been taken care of."

"You mean you won't let them go?"

"I mean," she gave Ron a hard look, her expression stern, "that there is nothing for you to worry about."

Ginny opened the door, wincing at the loud bang that resounded through the house behind her. "Ron, if you've so much as ruined a single thing in that kitchen, I'm going to skewer you and feed you to one of Hagrid's pets!"

"Mum and Dad go out?"

Ginny's gaze whipped around to her brother's and her eyes widened. Fred was leaning against the jamb, a small bouquet of flowers held loosely in his hand. "What're you doing here?"

"Not babysitting, so free yourself from the delusion that I'm taking care of the mess Ron's making for you." He patted her on the head as he walked past her, grinning at her low, annoyed growl. "Where's Mum and Dad?"

"Out."

"Really?" He smiled at his good fortune. "Excellent."

"But she left you this." Ginny smirked as she handed him a brilliant red envelope. He glared at Ginny, debating on whether or not to open the Howler. "Might as well. Otherwise it'll just be worse."

He closed his eyes and sighed, ripping the envelope open. His mother's voice shrilled through the living room, recriminations falling around Fred's head almost faster than he could hear them. "Fred Weasley! How dare you let our guest eat some of that…that…candy you sell at your store! Luna could have been killed eating one of those things and all I can say is that I've no intention of bailing you out of any kind of trouble when someone arrests you and your miscreant of a twin for killing some unsuspecting child. As it is it's a good thing Luna looks lovely in violet, since her father came by that night and nearly had an apoplectic fit."

Ginny laughed. "Her dad was impressed. He's talking about getting together with you and George about advertising in the Quibbler. Along with a full page article, of course."

"Excellent."

"And as for this date of yours, Fred Weasley, if you do not have Hermione home and completely unharmed by eleven tonight, I will personally lock you up in Azkaban. If you so much as touch one hair on her head, Fredrick, I will…OH!" The letter exploded on Molly's huff, paper confetti covering the floor. Fred looked up, blushing slightly as he saw Ron, Harry and Luna standing in the doorway of the kitchen, both boys trying not to smirk. His gaze was caught by a movement on the stairway and he turned, everyone else in the room forgotten.

"Hello, Hermione."

She smiled and waved sheepishly, her hand automatically going to her hair to smooth out the sleek strands. "Hi, Fred."

"You look," he shook his head, "stunning."

She blushed and darted a glance at the others. Fred followed her gaze and grinned at Ginny's obvious grinning approval, Luna's slight nod, Harry's wide eyes and Ron's gaping mouth. "Thank you."

"You look like a tart." Ron turned on his heel and stormed back into the kitchen. Harry closed his eyes and turned, following his best friend from the room. Luna trailed after them, leaving Ginny standing awkwardly alone by the door.

"I can only assume he'd say that because you look so tasty." Fred bowed slightly and handed Hermione the bouquet from his hand. She blushed even more, her cheeks furiously red. "Are you ready?"

She nodded though her smile trembled. "Yes."

"Good. I've got a surprise outside."

"Nothing you made yourself though, right? I really was hoping this date wouldn't include anything concocted by a Weasley."

"Nothing you put in your mouth tonight will have been made by a Weasley." Fred smiled and winked lavisciously at her. "That should put my mother's mind at rest, though she's liable to have fits at the double entendre."

"She's liable to have fits no matter what you say, Fred." She grinned at him, forcing herself not to look through the door into the kitchen as they walked past. "Especially since you prefaced this conversation with the mention of a surprise."

"Well," he opened the front door and guided her out onto the small porch, "I remember that you said that when they're sixteen, Muggles get their driver's licenses."

"Oh, no, Fred."

"And I thought about the fact that you're fifteen and you live in the Muggle world."

"No, Fred." She shook her head as he grabbed her hand and started leading her down the steps to a hulking mass on the other side of the low stone fence. "No."

"And I'm a stunning driver."

"In cars that fly!"

"So I thought I could teach you."

"No," she giggled helplessly. "I'm not driving a car, Fred."

"It's not really for driving," he admitted with a wink, tugging her along after him. He twirled her around, ending with her back against the car and him in front of her, plenty of distance between them. "I've been reading up on the Muggle world, you see."

"Oh?"

"And, according to what I was reading, cars are excellent for snogging in. Much more comfortable than say, a broom."

"Where'd you get a car, Fred?"

"Dunno. It was sitting on the side of the road with the tomor running."

"Motor," she corrected automatically before realizing what he'd said. "You stole a car?"

"Borrowed."

"Stole! Fred!" She moved away from the car. "We're going to get in so much trouble."

"Hermione." He leaned close and whispered her name, his breath stirring her hair. "I'm teasing."

"I can't believe you stole a car."

"It was just sitting here. I don't know who's it is." He caught her hand and pulled her closer, looping his arm around her shoulders, the gesture completely friendly and innocent. "I didn't steal it."

She elbowed him in the ribs, squirming out of his grasp. "You're horrible."

"I'm charming."

"If you do say so yourself."

"Exactly." He reached out and caught her hand. They walked side by side for a while in companionable silence.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, I thought about it for a long time. I mean, your first date with Viktor was the Yule Ball, which is tough to beat."

"Especially since the night ended with Ron and I having a blazing row."

"Right. So you can see that I had to carefully consider the competition."

"Right."

"And I realized there was no way I could compete, so I've just come to tell you I'm not coming."

"You came on the date to cancel it." She nodded as if he made perfect sense. "Very considerate of you."

"I thought so." He stepped off the road onto a path heading into the woods.

Hermione hung back slightly. "Have you heard of horror movies, Fred?"

"Seamus told us about pornography. Are they the same?"

"Well, they're both pretty scary," she laughed. "Please tell me where we're going?"

"We're here." He led her into a clearing, guiding her to a blanket spread out on the grass.

"A picnic?"

"You'd rather have whatever it was Ron and Harry were blowing up in the kitchen?"

She sat down. "I wasn't complaining."

"And everything's from Fortescue's in Diagon Alley, so you know I've not got any funny stuff planned."

"At least not with the food?"

Fred chuckled. "Exactly."

Hermione finished off her butterbeer and tucked the bottle back in the basket. Fred was lying on his side, head supported on one hand, his eyes unreadable in the rapidly fading sunlight. She turned and lay on her stomach, chin propped up on her fists, her head close enough to his that he could smell the crisp scent of her shampoo. "What?"

"What?"

She touched the tip of his nose then drew her hand back. "You're thinking something."

"I'm not."

"You are." Her finger moved out again and traced the curve of his lips. "Something mischievous."

"You wound me, Miss Granger." He closed his eyes for a brief second as she continued touching him, two fingers now feathering over his bottom lip. "To insinuate that I, of all people, might be up to something." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "It cuts me to the quick."

"You're not even close to convincing, you know." She tapped him on the nose again and pulled her hand away, as if suddenly realizing she'd been touching him. "So just confess."

"I'm not up to anything." He sat up so that he'd quit staring at her hand; quit the sudden wondering of whether or not she was going to touch him again. "However, our date is not yet done."

"This is the part where I get worried again, right?"

Fred got to his feet and leaned down, offering her his hand. Hermione took it and stood, blushing slightly at the lack of distance between them, somewhat relieved as Fred stepped back. "You were worried at some point this evening?" His eyes danced. "No."

"I can't imagine why I might be somewhat trepidatious whilst on a date with a Weasley twin." Hermione laughed softly, the sound magical in the dusk. "Surely, I must be mad."

"While I am more than happy to nurture the reputation my dear brother and I have on many and most occasions, you're more than welcome to research my history of dating and find that, never once, have I done anything to make said date uncomfortable or unhappy. Except, perhaps, for the leaving her wanting more bit."

"And how many dates have you been on?" The question was light hearted, but both of them heard the soft underbelly of it. For all her abilities, Hermione was a sixteen-year-old girl - shy, unsure, confused, delicately balanced.

"A couple. The Yule Ball, of course. One or two after that. George informed me after one particularly brutal Quidditch practice that dating someone on the team was going to get me killed if I couldn't keep my mind on the ball and not on my balls." He cleared his throat. "Er…"

She smiled and ducked her head. "Did you like her? Angelina?"

"She was nice enough."

"Pretty too."

"Didn't ask her out because she was pretty." He laughed at Hermione's look and grabbed her hand, walking away from the blanket. "Well, not just because she was pretty."

"Anyone else?"

"I've gone out with a few girls. Nothing serious. Just a chocolate frog or a butterbeer. Nothing really date-like." He cast a sidelong glance at her, watching as she sorted the information, filing it away. "What about you? Anyone besides Viktor?"

"Oh, no. Neville asked me out once but I had to turn him down because I was already going to the ball with Viktor. After that, everyone's either assumed I'm still with Viktor or they think I'm just waiting for Ron."

"What happened with you and Viktor?"

She shrugged. "We still write and we're still friends, but there was never really anything there, you know? It was flattering though. That someone like him could like someone like me."

"What do you mean, like you?"

"Well, let's face it," she shrugged, no self-pity in her voice, everything matter of fact. "I'm not exactly beautiful or sexy. I have hair that would give anyone fits. I'm too smart for my own good. I'm bossy. I'm a know-it-all. I'm horrible on a broom, which is a bane to anyone who fancies Quidditch as a downtime activity, which appears to be 99% of the wizarding world. I don't care about Quidditch except as something to cheer my friends in, which is a negative when it comes to dating a world famous Quidditch star."

"Well," he cut her off before she could list any more. "You are beautiful. Maybe not conventionally so. I suppose a lot of people would consider you ordinary, since you've got brown hair and brown eyes, but you've got this life in you that glows, this determination and it animates you. And that is what makes you beautiful. As for sexy," he squeezed her hand and stopped walking, tugging her a little to turn her blushing face to his. "Please trust me when I say that you are."

"I'm not."

"I could convince you, but I'm afraid I'd break the promise I made back at the Burrow and then I'd have to face my mother's wrath." He lowered his voice and took a step toward her, closing the distance between them, his body barely a breath away from hers. "But you are," he dropped his eyes to her mouth, her lips parting under the weight of his stare, "so sexy."

Hermione swallowed as Fred stepped back, her whole body on fire. She blushed and turned away from him as she realized her nipples had hardened, suddenly wishing she'd worn her robes, a coat and a scarf to hide the telltale evidence of what Fred's voice had done to her.

"Your hair, I'll admit, does have its wild moments. But you know how to tame it when you want to. But it's perpetually mussed state does give a man, with an active imagination of course, a lovely idea of what it would look like sprawled out over a pillowcase after a particularly romantic evening."

"Fred!"

"I'm just explaining, love. Not suggesting." He bit back his smile, fighting to keep the image he'd just mentioned out of his head. "You don't know-it-all, because if you did, you wouldn't blush so sweetly."

"You're incorrigible."

"We've already discussed the intelligence issue. Some men like bossy women," he waggled his eyebrows and Hermione blushed again, not quite sure of what he meant, but absolutely positive it was supposed to be suggestive. "As for the Quidditch issues, not everyone you'll date will be an international Quidditch star unless you plan on becoming a groupie and hanging out at all the matches."

"No. Unless they're Gryffindor."

"So, you see? All your arguments are completely useless, and you're going to have to suck it up that you're stunning and imminently dateable. Even for an internationally known Quidditch star."

"You're very sweet, Fred. Daft, but sweet."

"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, Hermione, since, you know, you don't actually know everything, but you're treading dangerously close to insulting my own taste in women, given that I'm actually out on a date with you."

"You're out on a date with me to irritate Ron."

Fred's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was serious. "No, I'm not. I went after you the other day because it twisted him up, I'll admit, and it's fun to do that. But I asked you out because I wanted to. Because of all the reasons I just said."

"Even the one about the pillow?"

He touched her cheek, the warm desire to kiss her churning in his stomach. "Especially the one about the pillow." Her skin was a brilliant shade of red, highlighted by the last tendrils of setting sun. "So can we quit with the self-pity for a bit and let me enjoy my evening with the very lovely, very sexy, very smart, very non-Quidditch Miss Granger?"

"I suppose."

"Good."

"So," she looked away from him, a smile that she couldn't quite explain on her lips. "What is planned next for the rest of our evening?"

"I thought we'd play Quidditch, talk about Quidditch and how very homely my date is."

She turned and punched him lightly, her movement coupled with his so that they ended up against one another, face to face. Hermione's mouth opened to say something, the words dying as Fred glanced down at her mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "You're," her voice was soft and teasing, a whisper she wasn't quite sure of, "horrible, Fred."

He swallowed, licking his lips again, wetting them, his whole mouth dry. "Quidditch is out then?"

They were too close but strangely to Hermione's mind, not close enough. Her body reacted, instinctively closing the gap between them. Fred shook his head, suddenly several feet away, sucking in the early night air. Hermione smiled to hide the sharp pang of disappointment in the center of her chest, ducking her head so that her hair fell over her face to hide her equally unruly emotions. "Quidditch is right out."

"Damn." He started walking again, not taking her hand. Hermione followed him, jogging just enough to fall in pace with his longer stride. He slowed down automatically, matching his pace to hers, shoving his traitorous hands in his pockets. "I do have something planned that, given our recent conversation, you might take the wrong way. But will you promise me to let me explain before you bash me over the head with a rock?"

"I wouldn't do that. Hex you maybe. Petrify you and let all your practical joke victims have their revenge on you."

"That's a brilliant idea." He chuckled gleefully. "You're going to have to head up our new product development line. Raspberry Revenges. A toffee, you think? Hard candy?"

"Vengeance should be hard. Something you suck on determinedly." He gave her a somewhat wary glance out of the corner of his eye and she laughed. "You forget, I go to school with Draco Malfoy."

"Good point." He acquiesced. "But given your statement, you'll hopefully understand why I want a disclaimer before our date."

"Oh, absolutely. I'm terrifyingly scary, I do know."

"Let's just say I have a healthy respect for your talents." He took his hands from his pockets and reached out to catch hers again. "So promise you'll give me a chance and not do anything too irreversible."

"I've yet to turn Draco into a gnat or anything permanently, so I think you're safe." She gave him a smile though her eyes were suspicious. "Although I'm getting more and more nervous the longer you continue not telling me what it is we're going to do."

"I just thought," he gestured to the shed alongside the house. There were two brooms propped up against it and he shrugged. "We could go for a ride."

"You want me, the world's worst flyer, and I'm including Neville Longbottom in that list, to fly around with you, a Gryffindor beater, well known for his skill on a broom?"

"You make that sound awfully sexy."

"Which part? The Neville bit?"

"And the sarcasm." He growled low, sexy. "You'd better stop before I lose my grip on my iron restraint."

"I'm not going for a broom ride, Fred." She pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest. "I've no desire to wobble along behind you while you dash off, making me look all kinds the fool."

"You know, you're brilliant at everything else, Hermione, why's flying give you fits?" He walked over to the shed and grabbed his broom, leveling it and sitting sideways on it, balancing as he bobbed gently in front of her.

"I don't know."

"Flying doesn't have to be any different, you know. You just need practice."

"There's no one to practice with. Everyone else has it down." She shrugged and edged away from him.

"Why don't you ask Harry for lessons?"

"Harry's got enough on his mind without that. And Ron…"

"Ron what?" Fred asked. When she didn't answer, he pressed her again. "Ron what, Hermione?"

"He doesn't want to bother with it. He doesn't have the patience to put up with me. Especially now that he's playing Quidditch."

"Ron's got five older brothers, all of whom are better than him at tons of things, except Percy, who's just a git. Plus his best friend's Harry Potter, you know?" Fred shrugged. "He's got a bit of a complex, my little brother. Probably can't stand the thought of the girl he fancies showing him up in yet another arena." He smiled at her. "Not that that gives him a license to be a prat to you, mind you."

"He's not always a prat."

"Name one nice thing he's said to you so far this summer." Fred shrugged again. "And then I'll revise my opinion."

She shook her head and looked away from him. "I don't want to talk about Ron anymore."

"Fine with me." He hopped off the broom and caught her hand, pulling her to him. "Get on."

"I told you…"

"You told me you wouldn't wobble along behind me. And you won't." He lowered the broom so she could step over it then straddled it himself. "Wrap your arms around me."

"This is some cheap ploy to cop a feel, isn't it, Fred?"

"If that were the case, you'd be in front of me." He wrapped his hand around the broomstick and rested the other one over her hands clasped around his waist. He lifted higher off the ground. "Hang on tight."

Hermione's hands tightened as Fred dipped the broom down slightly, laughing back over his shoulder. "I'm nowhere near the trees, you know."

"I don't. I've got my eyes closed."

"That might be part of your flying problem."

"Well, when I fly, I don't swoop around like I'm some sort of superhero."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just…just stop swooping."

"The swooping's the best part." He squeezed her hands. "The whole point of flying is to give yourself over to it. Pretend you're a bird or something, just relax and let go."

"I can't." She buried her head against his shoulder blade. "I get too nervous."

"You're not nervous now, are you? I mean, being up here?"

"Not of the flying. Of the steering, maybe." She chuckled and tightened her hold once more. Fred closed his eyes for a second, snapping them open as she yawned.

"Tired?"

"A little. I guess I'm not used to all the fresh air."

"It's probably getting late anyway. I should get you home before Papa Ron sends out a search party."

"Harry'd be most likely to do that."

"Yeah," Fred agreed, obviously humoring her. "Harry's be the most concerned."

She squeezed him hard. "Hush, Fred."

"Yes, ma'am." He released her hands and grabbed the broom with both of his. "Hang on tight."

"Why should I do…FRED!" She screamed his name as he dove for the trees, squeezing her eyes closed as branches whipped past them, stirring in the wind, but none touching them. He laughed out loud and she managed to release her death grip with one hand long enough to smack him hard on the shoulder as soon as the broom slowed, drifting into a calm, steady flight. "I'm going to kill you."

He laughed softly and shook his head. "Tell me it wasn't a thrill, Hermione. Your blood pounding in your veins."

"Yes. Fear does that to me."

"It's not fear." He looked at her over his shoulder as he lifted up again, climbing higher in the air. "Adrenaline. Excitement."

"Fear," she insisted, jabbing him in the ribs.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He turned his attention back to their flight, heading toward the unmistakable roof of the Burrow. "I'll behave."

"You'd better."

He nodded and dipped down, slowly dropping toward the ground in a nice casual manner. He skimmed the top of the trees and circled around, sinking down until the soles of his feet buzzed the grass in front of the house. Hermione shifted, anticipating the stop, and Fred gasped, the broom spinning and dumping them both on the grass before falling to the ground, the handle smacking Fred solidly on the forehead. "Ow."

"Oh, Fred." She crawled up his body, her hands gentle as she touched his face. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-" She broke off as he started laughing, rearing back and smacking him on the shoulder again. "Stop laughing."

"You're a menace, woman."

"I'm not!"

"You've got to wait for the broom to stop before you go clamoring to the ground. You threw off my balance. Had anyone been watching us, I'd be mortified."

"You're horrible." She jabbed him hard in the stomach. "Horrible." She settled back on her heels, her hands gliding over Fred's chest and hips as she pulled away. Realizing what she'd done, she blushed hotly, ducking her eyes so he couldn't look at her. "Sorry."

Fred deliberately misunderstood her. "The fall didn't kill me. I'll chalk it up to a learning experience."

"That's not what I…" she stopped as Fred caught her eye. "Oh. Right. Flying."

"Come on." He sat up, putting distance between them as he got to his feet. He held out a hand to her and she stood up, brushing the tangle of freshly mown grass and fallen leaves from her jeans. Fred brushed himself off as well. "Let's get you home."

They started walking together, his hand curling naturally into hers. They climbed up the steps to the door and Hermione glanced at the rough-hewn oak then at him, her eyes finally settling on the wooden planks of the deck. "I had a really nice time, Fred."

"So did I." He reached up and plucked a stray leaf from her hair, about to say more when the front door swung open. Ron stood there, glaring at the both of them.

"You know what time it is?"

"I'm pleased that you've graduated to telling the time, Ron, but you needn't bother. I know that she's home long before Mum's curfew."

"What have you two been up to?" His eyes scanned Hermione, high color staining his cheeks as he took in her bright eyes, tangled hair, and mussed clothes. He glared at his brother. "Or am I not of age to know?"

"Actual age? Or the age you're acting?" Fred crossed his arms over his chest, very deliberately letting Hermione's hand go before he did so. Ron's gaze locked on her hand and Fred smirked. "You plan on letting us in the house, Ronniekins?"

"Sod off."

"With snappy comebacks like that, it's no wonder you're the apple of Snape's eye, Ron." Fred muscled passed his brother, guiding Hermione into the living room. Harry was sitting on one side of the chessboard, most of his figures in pieces around the board. Ginny and Luna were both reading issues of the Quibbler, the upside down papers blocking their faces. He guided Hermione over toward the staircase, standing in front of her to block her from everyone else. "I want to see you again. If you'll let me."

"No more flying?"

"Not for a while." He tapped her on the nose. "Is that fair?"

"Fair enough."

He let his finger drop down to her lips, tugging the bottom one lightly. "Can I see you again, Hermione?" She sucked the lip back, sinking her teeth into it as she nodded shyly. Fred grinned and wrinkled his nose. "I'll owl you."

"Okay."

Ron cleared his throat. Fred turned his head to see his younger brother standing there, Luna's hand gripped tightly in his. "Yes, Ronald?"

"I'd like to go to bed."

"With Luna? You do move fast, Ronniekins."

"I'm walking Luna to her room." He sneered. "If you'll get your fat arse out of the way."

"Absolutely, your highness." Fred edged closer to Hermione before moving, standing beside her as Ron marched up the stairs. Luna followed, looking somewhat dazed and floaty, as usual. He turned back to Hermione. "I should go."

She nodded. "Night, Fred."

Her lips were soft and parted, painted with a tinge of moisture that ached to be tasted. He shook his head and swallowed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Night, Hermione." And with a sharp crack, he was gone.

Hermione walked up the stairs to Ginny's room, humming softly under her breath. Her skin tingled from Fred's soft kiss as well as the night air, her whole body still slightly cool but alive. Maybe flying wasn't so bad after all.

She turned at the top of the steps to head toward Ginny's room, stopping at the sound of whispering. Her eyes lifted and she glanced at the door to Percy's old bedroom where they'd deposited Luna, the quiet tune in her head going silent at the sight of Ron. He was leaning forward, one arm over his head, resting against the doorjamb, the other curved under Luna's chin. One side of his shirt was untucked, hanging haphazardly over the waistband of his jeans, the top button open and exposing the faintest glimmer of reddish-golden hair.

He ducked his head, brushing his lips lightly across Luna's, kissing her like a quick sip of wine, then pursing his lips, savoring the taste. "Goodnight, Luna." He kissed her again, in earnest this time, his grip sliding from beneath her chin to the nape of her neck, his large hand disappearing in a cascade of blonde.

"Excuse me." Hermione's breath caught in her chest as she edged behind Ron on her way to Ginny's room.

"Sorry, 'Mione." He gave her a casual grin, his eyes not reflecting the light-hearted tone of his words. "We in your way?"

"Not at all, Ron. Just going to bed."

"Fred gone?"

"Yes."

He moved closer to Luna, mimicking the move Fred had made downstairs. "We won't stop you then."

"Goodnight, Hermione. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Luna." Her eyes swept over Ron once more, her gaze making his skin burn. "Same to you." She moved into the bedroom she was sharing with Ginny, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.

"Ron?"

He forced his gaze back to Luna and she stared at him, her fingers feathering over his long, ginger eyelashes. He blinked and looked away, nervous in the face of her determined gaze. "I should let you get to bed. To sleep."

"Ron?" Luna grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. "Come to bed with me."

Ron stared at the picture of Percy wearing his prefect's badge, not meeting his brother's disapproving glare. Percy huffed and walked out of the picture, no doubt mumbling something about younger brothers with no sense of decency.

Luna turned and sat on the edge of the bed. Ron glanced around the room, at anything but her then lifted his hands to his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons. Luna watched him with a curious expression for a long moment before speaking. "You can stop that."

"I can? Er." Ron dropped his hands. "Okay."

"Because I'm not going to have sex with you. At least not yet."

"Er. Right. Later then?"

"Maybe. But first we need to figure out why you want to have sex with me when you're in love with her."

"I'm not."

"You are." Luna shrugged. "And you do, which is really okay with me, as I mentioned before about the kissing." She watched Ron try to puzzle out her words. "Although, if you want to fool around a bit to get it out of your system, I wouldn't be opposed."

Ron looked lost. "I really don't know what you're talking about, Luna."

"Have you thought about telling Hermione that you fancy her? Without insulting her, preferably, but I understand that you're a teenage boy and that might be beyond the realm of your abilities."

"She's dating my brother."

"Yes. That's understandable. Fred's enough to make even a Squinthog rather enamored. But I think that it's been clear for quite some time that she likes you."

"She's dating him."

"Ah." Luna nodded. "I always forget that there's that logic block. My father warned me about it. That boys can't see beyond the obvious."

"Hey now, there's no need for insulting me." He shoved his shirt back in his waistband, tugging it so hard that it hung lopsided on his shoulders. "You've got no clue what's going on with Hermione and me and what we've been through and, if she wants to go around dating and kissing and…and whatever with my brother, well then, they're welcome to each other."

Luna sighed. "All right then." She stood up and walked over to Ron, tugging his shirt free where he'd just tucked it in and straightening the fabric. Hooking her finger in the vee exposing his bare skin, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Ron was caught somewhere between a gasp and a sigh as her lips found his and he reached out to steady himself, finding handfuls of very warm, very girl flesh. He made a quick, frightened sound and backed away, his eyes wide and wary. "Er. I'd better go. Out. To bed." A quick glance downward and then up, blushing furiously as Luna's gaze dropped to his crotch. "Alone. Goodnight."

She caught his hand before he could leave, nodding toward the door. He stopped, managing to hear voices over his own frantic breathing and pounding heart. Harry, Hermione and Ginny were all obviously in the hallway and, no matter what he did, they were going to turn around and look at him the minute he walked out the door.

"You don't have an invisibility cloak, do you?"

Luna shook her head with a slight smile. "Sorry, no."

"Thought not." He nodded once and opened the door, looking back at Luna as he felt three sets of eyes lock onto him. Leaning forward, he kissed the blonde once more, swallowing his surprise as her hand brushed lightly over his burgeoning erection. His voice was strangled. "Night, Luna."

She smiled and waved as he backed away, nearly running into Harry. "Goodnight, Ron."