Ron yawned, hiding the gesture behind his hand until Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! What was that for?"

"How can you be yawning, Ron?" She shook her head in disbelief. "This is exciting."

"It's extra work, Hermione," he reminded her, his forehead wrinkled with a frown.

"We're decorating for Christmas, Ron."

"Yeah," he shrugged. "And we've got a test in Divination and in Potions tomorrow."

"Well, if you didn't leave everything until the last minute…"

"Miss Granger? Mr. Weasley? Did you plan on joining us?"

Hermione turned slowly, her face flushed red. Professor McGonagall's arms were crossed over her chest, the hem of her robe moving as she tapped her foot. Behind her, Professor Flitwick was directing the other sets of prefects, decorations floating in the air around them. "Sorry, Professor."

"Sorry." Ron's face flushed as well and he gestured toward the rest of the group. "We'll just…"

"Yes, I think that would be wise." McGonagall waited until they'd passed her to smile, steeling her expression before turning to follow.

"Not there, Ron."

"Why not?"

"You'll set fire to the ribbon."

"Why don't you move the ribbon?"

"Because it's supposed to go there."

"Supposed to?" He gave her an incredulous look. "Supposed to? And who says it's supposed to, Hermione? You?"

"What does it matter, Ron? Just move it so we can finish. Everyone else is almost done and we've got half a box of decorations left to put up."

"I'm not the one that felt the need to change the design."

"It looks nice."

"Yeah, if you're trying to make it look like a whore's bedroom." Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth opening. Ron ignored her, pressing on. "I mean, even the Slytherin tree's got more taste than ours, Hermione. You've got enough red and gold here to give anyone fits."

Hermione looked over at the Slytherin tree, the pale silver decorations dancing like frost on the needles. The Hufflepuff tree was done in a delicate blue, alive with birds and faeries, held captive with a gentle binding spell. The Ravenclaw tree shivered with a kaleidoscope of color, small presents wrapped in bold, shimmering paper capturing the moonlight.

Ron turned from the tree, realizing Hermione hadn't spoken. He started to talk, stopping when he saw her eyes, watched her face fall as she turned her attention back to their tree.

"The hall looks really lovely, Hermione," he scrambled.

Her hand trembled as she touched the red velvet ribbon. "A whore's bedroom, huh?" Tears floated in her eyes. "Gaudy and embarrassing, right?"

Ron sighed in relief, glad she seemed to understand. "Yeah. Exactly."

"Excuse me."

Ron watched her run out of the hall, his confusion plain in his clear blue eyes. He turned back to the tree, hoping for some sort of answer.

"Where is Miss Granger?"

He turned his concerned eyes to McGonagall. "I don't know, Professor. We were just discussing the tree and…"

"It's beautifully done. Very classic."

"Nothing's moving," Pansy sneered as the rest of the groups came over to the tree.

"No." McGonagall touched the ribbon. "It's decorated with inanimate objects. Only the candles spelled, I should think."

"The…popcorn too," Ron said quietly. "She didn't want to have to string it."

"It's a Muggle tree?" Draco's disgust seemed to echo through the great room

McGonagall spelled the candles, the flames sparking to life. The light deepened the shadows of the tree, the gold glinting warmly with hidden secrets. "It is." She smiled, her fingers trailing lightly over a glistening orb. "And it's lovely."

Draco and Pansy walked off, both snickering in triumph as they passed their tree on the way out. McGonagall turned her gaze to Ron as the room emptied.

"It is lovely, Ron."

He nodded, mesmerized by the dancing light. "Yeah."

"You will tell Miss Granger I said so?" He nodded again and McGonagall gave him a small smile. "Good night, Mr. Weasley."

He continued staring at the tree, sinking down onto the bench opposite it with a sigh. "Goodnight, Professor."

Hermione stood in the doorway for a long time, watching the trees, watching the candlelight as it glimmered on Ron's hair. She moved forward slowly, sinking down on the bench next to him. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, Ron."

"You didn't." He sighed. "I really didn't mean to be such a git." Looking at her profile, he smiled, his heart somewhere in his throat, his stomach moving up to fill the gap. "And don't worry. I don't expect you to say I wasn't."

She turned her head slightly, just meeting his gaze. "I wasn't going to."

He smiled and dropped his eyes, staring down at her hand, pale against the dark wood of the bench. She turned back to the tree and he lifted his gaze back to her, the flicking light giving a new depth to her eyes, turning her hair into a golden flame. "It's lovely."

"The tree?" Hope lit her voice and she smiled. When he didn't respond, she turned her head, her lips parting as Ron took her hand, turning it over and rubbing his thumb over her palm. "Ron?"

"The tree," he nodded, his eyes intent on hers. "You."

"I'm not beautiful."

He shook his head, his hand still warm on hers. "I saved the last decoration for you."

Hermione looked up then back at him, obviously confused. "But the star's…"

He held the small, dusky green plant between them, the powdery white underbelly of the leaves like a dusting of snow. His fingers threaded through hers and he wiggled the mistletoe slightly. "Where should we hang it, Hermione?"

She shivered at the tender huskiness of his voice. "I have an idea."

He lifted the plant and held it over her head. "Is it as good as mine?"

She nodded as her eyes closed, as his parted lips touched hers. "Better."

They pulled apart, breathless. Ron smiled and stole another kiss, his tongue brushing hers. She whimpered softly and squeezed his hand, her teeth nipping at his lower lip. Ron caught his breath and buried his hand and the mistletoe in her hair, bringing her closer to him.

Hermione's free hand clung to his robe, flattening against his chest over his heart. His blunt nails grazed her neck and she gasped. Ron groaned, deepening the kiss until they broke away from each other, both of them panting hard.

Ron untangled the mistletoe from her hair with shaking fingers, his other hand still entwined with hers. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

She smiled, looking up at him as he stood. She got to her feet, falling in step with him, neither willing to let go just yet. "I do have one question, Ron."

He smiled, somewhat smugly. "What's that? Where'd I get the mistletoe? How'd I know you'd come back? How'm I such a good kisser?"

She shook her head, her gaze almost dangerous as they neared the Fat Lady's portrait. "How do you know what a whore's bedroom looks like?"

He watched her disappear into the common room and sighed, disappointed that the night was over. Happy that the chase was still on. "Hermione!"