AN: Hi, Hello, and Salutations! I wrote this story over 10 years ago. Anywho, I have revamped and decided to re-release the story entirely, on account of the fact that the first half of the story is virtually the same with only some minor plot edits and grammar/spelling tweaks. The second part, however, I would estimate is over 75% new fresh-squeezed Cute Content. When I went in for the revamp I had to kill a lot of darlings in terms of dialogue, but I realized a lot the original chapter 2 was more Headcanon Dissertation than actual story, so I am pleased to bring more plot and less exposition (Fun fact: it took me a whole two minutes to think of that word, my brain decided exhibition was was the same word...it is not)

If anyone who has read the original version of this happens upon it again I hope you enjoy!

On that note, A HUGE THANKS (get it?...heh, never gets old ;D) to everyone that Favorited, Followed, Reviewed, Read or accidently clicked the link of original story. It had over 4K views, 20 Favorites, 9 Follows, and 28 Reviews; each one very special to me :)

Everyone else….Read, review, Favorite etc.

On the Common Room Couch

Ron was in the common room, sleepy but intent on finishing his homework. It was clearly after midnight. The average fifth year student was already prone to staying up late working; Ron had the additional weight of, among other things, Prefect Duties, Quidditch practice, DA meetings and the other joyous day to day burdens of being best friends with Harry Potter. He was falling behind, further than he was comfortable. O.W.L.s were fast approaching and if he intended to get even one 'Acceptable' he was going to have to catch up.

He was half way to his book bag to find a new inkwell when he heard a small breath break the silence of the dark room. He glanced carelessly to the source of the breath, but took a double take so quick his neck cracked.

He sat bolt upright as he stared in curiosity at one dreamily sleeping Hermione. Ron watched her sleep, bemused for the good part a minute. How long had she been there sleeping without him noticing? He looked away trying to recall every person that had bid him a good night. Hermione's was never made. He figured she dozed off after most everyone left and he had been so absorbed in working he had guessed by the silence that he was alone and hadn't bothered to look. A part of him was rather pleased with himself for concentrating.

She looked kind of cozy with her head tilted into the couch cushions, but perhaps he ought to send her to send her to bed.

"Hermione," he stage-whispered as he cupped his hand over his mouth.

No response.

Ron cleared his throat loudly and tried a more direct approach. He leaned across the couch and poked the tip of her nose with the end with his quill, "Hermione."

She jerked awake gibbering, "E=mc2!"

"What?" Ron leaned back in guilty surprise.

Hermione, who obviously was not prepared to wake up on the couch in the common room, swiveled her head about the room. When she settled into her surroundings, she spoke, "No-nothing, muggle stuff. Wh… how long have you been there watching me?" she scratched her neck insecurely and squinted at him in the firelight.

"Well, I noticed you there about three minutes ago," Ron admitted bewildered and a little embarrassed, "I was gonna ask you how you managed to fall asleep down here."

"I dunnoooo," Hermione yawned, "I remember giving you the spell to transfigure large objects. And then I just wanted to rest my eyes for a minute."

"Wow, you have been out for a long time, I finished transfigurations hours ago."

"And you're still up?" Hermione said in amazement.

"Could you sound a little less surprised?" He mumbled, turning back to his work, not trusting the dim light to hide his blush.

"I-," Hermione paused to choose her words, "I 'spose I meant I'm proud you are applying yourself."

"Well, it doesn't come so easy for all of us, as it does for you."

"I'm down here with you, aren't I?"

"You were sleeping," Ron snorted, "You could probably take your Exams tomorrow and still get all twelve O's you've got your heart set on."

"Eleven."

"What?"

"I'm only sitting for eleven exams," Hermione pouted.

"You're disappointed you can't sit for twelve, aren't you?"

"No," Hermione attempted to hide her pout by pulling her knees to her chin and huddled into her corner of the couch.

"Hermione," Ron turned back to his potions essay, and said drily, "Eleven exams is enough, I promise."

"I need to study just as hard as you." Hermione said, haughtily. She reached out and grabbed a book sitting on the couch and opened it to a page at random. Ron watched her diligently prove her point. Saving his energy, he didn't talk to argue.

Ron sat back into the couch cushions and propped his feet up on the tea table between the couch and the fireplace. Hermione didn't say anything since she too had her shoes on the furniture. He leaned the essay he was finishing on his knee and continued etching sentences into his parchment. He gave his study partner one more side long glance, she met his gaze and turned the page in a silent reply. This made him smile back at his essay. Going back to work, her company motivated him to continue. They dedicated the next few minutes to silence.

"You haven't got to prove anything, Hermione," Ron said, without looking up, feeling guilty. When she didn't answer, he lulled his head in her direction.

"Hermione?"

But she was asleep again, Ron's Transfigurations textbook slipping out of her hands.

Despite the endearing sight, Ron decided to wake her up again and send her to bed for the night.

Suddenly, Hermione stretched across the couch and wrapped her arms around Ron's waist.

"HERMIONE!"

Ron raised his arms, letting his essay and books tumble to the ground as Hermione stretched across the length of the couch and rested her head curls on Ron's chest, as if Ron were her bedroom pillow.

"Hermioneee!" he whined. She responded with a small low groan, and snuggled deeper into his shirt. Apprehensively, Ron lowered his arm, little by little, to the only place it could go, around Hermione's shoulder.

"Fair enough, but you're finishing my potions essay tomorrow morning," he instructed, mourning the crumpled parchment on the ground. Still, he smiled down at the top of her head.

"Unbelievable," He thought aloud even though his only audience was asleep. Nearly five years at this school and finally he was sitting cozy with a girl tucked under his arm and it's Hemrione? If a seer had come up to him in first year and told Ron that busy-body, big haired know-it-all on the train was going to get so close to him he'd have said to lay off the gillyweed. He chuckled softly. "But it could be worse, you know. Harry could be the one lying in my lap," he breathed a laugh, but then he looked down and his smile vanished, "and drooling into my shirt."

Hermione relinquished her hold on him, and like a great feline rotated into his chest, until she was entirely on her back. She took hold of his arm around her shoulder, and hugged it close. Her face caught the fire light, shining with a quiet happiness.

"No… no, I don't mean that really," He confided, though she couldn't hear him, "I mean you can be a little bossy and no matter what you're always right and your hair is… O.K., O.K. so I do mean it… but… but…"

His voice was cracking, and his mouth was dry.

"Viktor-?…," Hermione breathed out suddenly.

Ron's brow furrowed and he closed eyes shut tight, as if trying to re-think his words, or maybe, try not to cry.

"So, that's who you think I am," Ron breathed a laugh, but his chuckling smile disappeared, "figures, ay?"

He stopped talking to himself. He couldn't bare to look at the romance of the fire, or her face, anymore. But he was selfish enough to drift to sleep against the couch cushions as she dozed against his abdomen.

"Ron… Ron … Hermione… wake up, you'll be late, we let you sleep through breakfast, come on."

"What do you think happened?"

"I dunno, not anything too interesting. Ron'd be too much of a prat to try anything."

Harry and Ginny's voices were coming from nearby, but Ron did not want to wake up to satisfy them with the story of what happened last night.

"Let's not say anything 'til there they tell us, don't bring anyone's hopes up, you know."

Ron waited to hear the two of them climb out into the corridor before he blinked awake in the sunlight pouring into the circular room. He was lying sideways on the couch now. He lifted his head a little ways and squinted around the common room. He glanced behind him, to find Hermione still dozing peacefully, with one arm limply draped over his side and the other bent under her hair which quivered in the way of her soft breathes. He got up and walked to a window overlooking the grounds, holding his head in the base of his hands, sliding his fingers swiftly through his hair, leaned his head back, and supported his neck, tightly lacing his fingers. Staring up at the brightened sky, he resolved he would never say anything having to do with that night. It would just be ridiculous, and embarrassing.

One year later...

April budded with springtime blooms, the Gryffindor students were all sitting down to breakfast before another day of class. Ron was linked to Lavender in a side crushing squeeze around his ribs. Ginny came staggering into the Great Hall and plummeted onto the bench next to Hermione; O.W.L.s were rounding the corner for fifth years.

"What's up with you?" Ron called across the table.

"I'm tired." She explained with a bite, "I didn't sleep again, it's my O.W.L.s," Ginny whined.

"Ah, O.W.L.'s, thank Merlin, you only take them once," Ron reminisced, "I've got a theory that part of the exam is judging how sleep deprived you are."

"It's true," Hermione said, unable to look at Ron across the table. She looked Ginny up and down, knowingly, "Just about everyone gets that way this time of year," she reassured, "I remember, last year I dreamt some of the strangest things from studying far too much. Once I found myself jumping off the ship, Titanic, and swam out to sea. I saw a rubber raft and clang to it for dear life," at these words Ron's head sprang up and turned to Hermione. Clung? He listened attentively to each detail, "Then I floated to a rowboat and got inside, but when I did, I saw Professor McGonagall and the muggle queen, Victoria, already in there!"

Suddenly, like a spark meeting a candle's wick, the name Victoria struck a fire in Ron's mind. Could it be that that was what she tried to say in her sleep? Never Viktor at all!?

"So there I am," and Hermione lowered her voice for this bit, "Arm wrestling Professor McGonagall to stay in the boat! Then, suddenly it's floating into the sky... and," She blushed pink; losing her train of thought, " You know how dreams are, the next moment I'm all alone with Harry. He's there with a bow and arrow. Then he shoots me out of the boat!" she begins to chuckle as everyone else around is already laughing at this point, except Ron, who has his mouth hanging wide open.

"So I started falling, but someone caught me!" she shrugged; she stopped talking and took a bite of toast.

"Well?" came Ron's voice impatiently, when he realized the story ended.

"Well what?" Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Well, who caught you?" said Ron, attempting to sound a little less eager.

"Oh," she shrugged again, "I dunno the dream changed completely after that and I never saw them."

Ron smacked his palm to his forehead, almost imitating Harry's reaction to the pain that sometimes occurred from his scar.

"Won-Won!?" Lavender cried, "Are you alright?"

"Huh," he replied as if just noticing she was beside him just then, "Oh y-yeah, I umm, I forgot I needed to look for a book I lost," he said stiffly making an excuse, shifting his eyes all around him counting all the people who just saw him lash out, "Got to go!" he said, quickly sliding through Lavender's death grip, and he sped walked out of the Great Hall, cursing under his breath.

Ron sat, crumpled, on the rug of the boys' dormitory. He repetitively hit his head against the wall. He bounced his cranium against the flagstone. With each knock of his head, a memory flashed in the back of his mind.

He remembered the hormonal rush of realizing his feelings for her. The confusion and frustration. They were supposed to be friends, was Harry going to start looking different to him too?! Ludicrous thoughts like this and more flooded his thoughts all through his adolescence. He'd never quite managed to make sense of all.

He remembered feeble and floundering attempts to acknowledge those feelings. Christmas presents, furtive glances.

He remembered getting his hopes up when she glanced back.

And he remembered having those hopes dashed, in moments like the ones on the common room couch over a year ago. The clear and present interpretation brought him to the same conclusion, no matter the variables or countless equations; whatever these feelings were they were not meant to be returned by Hermione.

In his self-hating spiral of giving himself a headache, Ron failed to notice someone's entrance into the room.

Hermione cautiously tip-toed into the boy's dormitory. Over the horizon of Ron's bed, she saw the distinct shock of red hair bobbing back and forth against the wall. She crept onto his bed and lay down across its width, leaning on her elbows. He had a horribly morose look of concentration plastered to his face, and his long body slumped back. As he continuously hit his head, there was an audible and painful 'knock' each time it made contact.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Ah!" Ron jumped from his depressing reverie; shocked that the subject of his thoughts had manifested here beside him, "What are you doing sneaking up on me?"

"I didn't mean to startle you." Hermione pursed her lips.

"You're always doing that, we ought to get you a bell." Ron grumbled, regretting all the hard knocks to the head, "You just come out from nowhere and-"

"Ron, are you okay?" Hermione reached out a hand to his forehead, slightly worried.

"M'fine!" he snapped, flinching away, unable to handle her touching him.

"What's up with you?!" she snapped back, now hurt by his callousness.

"Nothing I'm fine!" Ron stood indignantly.

"'Didn't look fine at breakfast. And you didn't look fine a moment ago when you were trying to crack your head open," Hermione accused, getting up, too, kneeling on the bed to match his height.

"Alright, I'm sick of this! You want to know? I was thinking if I split my head open, and maybe got a good look at my thoughts, I reckon, I could figure out why you keep doing this to me!"

"Ron, I'm sorry, I won't 'Sneak up on you' anymore," Hermione replied, perplexed, "If it bothers you so much, take it up with McGonagall and have the Boys' dorm charmed so I can't follow you up here."

"I-Hermione, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I-I DON'T KNOW!" She sputtered in reply, getting flushed with frustration, "Ron?! What's going on? I just don't want you to be late for class. You are the one acting all dodgy and going on about sneaking and bells."

"Right," Ron sobered, "Let's just get to class, since you care so much about it."

"I care about you, too," She spat the sentiment. She paused and considered her tone.

"...Could you just tell me how much?" He asked, accidentally speaking his thoughts.

"Ron-?" but he continued his stream of consciousness.

"If you tell me, then I'll know," He explained, with his own slow logic, "And I can date Lavender or whoever, and it won't be you and it will be ok. It'll be fine," he spoke with a grimace, "and you can go with Harry, or Krum, or yeah, some impressive sod. Just save me the trouble of analyzing everything you do, putting ideas in my own head that leave me looking stupid."

Hermione was slate pale and her lips were entirely curled into her mouth, her jaw locked and set against opening.

"I don't have to concern myself with your compliments or pity, or your invitations to parties or your dreams."

"Ron, I barely understand that dream." Hermione said, thinking she was getting caught up, "I knew you should have dropped divinations with me in 3rd year."

"Hermione, shut up about classes!" Ron growled. How was she such a good student but such an awful listener? "It's not about what you dreamt! Do you even remember when you had that dream?"

Hermione frowned in response, still shaky in her grasp on the conversation.

"Like, I dunno, did you have during Christmas at Sirius', or maybe the night before O.W.L.'s, or maybe… on the common room couch, with your bloody arms wrapped around me?!"

"When did that happen?" Hermione asked, her eyes darting about as if searching her own memory for that night.

"Well, according to that dream, right about the time you grabbed onto that raft!"

It became clear to both of them that they were not going to make it to Herbology class.

"There was a night in fifth year; I was up late finishing homework and you never went to bed for some reason. You decided to stay up with me, but you fell asleep, and you had that dream, and when you thought you were grabbing that raft, you grabbed on to me around the middle, and…well you mumbled the name Viktor," he sneered the name, " and I thought… I thought—I'm just a git, this is stupid." He stopped, knowing he was making a fool out of himself.

"What? You thought I meant, Viktor Krum?" Hermione said, stringing together his words earlier, "Ron, why would you? We're just friends!" She insisted with a blush, "I-I haven't sent him more than a christmas card all year."

"Yes well, Hermione, I don't know if you realize this, but it isn't the best thing to do, when you say a bloke's name, while you're in some other guy's arms!"

"Well I didn't even know I was holding on to you, and how am I to help what I mumble in my sleep?"

"Hermione!" Ron pressed his fingers into his temples to stem the oncoming headache, "I told you, It doesn't matter what you actually dreamt. You do this to me everytime, whether you mean to or not. One moment, you can make me feel like the best thing since the patronus, and the next you treat me like garbage."

"Honestly, Ron, don't be so childish," Hermione admonished, "I'm not responsible for your emotions." She said snidely, but added quickly, "You don't see me holding you accountable for hurt feelings."

Ron gaped like a fish for nearly a minute. "You sent a pack of canaries after me and dated the Gryffindor equivalent of Malfoy!" Hermione looked aside uncomfortably remembering her rendezvous with Cormac McLaggen.

"I wouldn't have done any of that if you hadn't lost your mind; verbally abusing me between snogging sessions with Lav-Lav," Hermione crossed her eyes in mockery.

"Right," Ron breathed shakily, he was in over his head but he was determined to swim, "Well, I had just found out that not only were you dreaming about Vicky but you'd snogged him, too."

"I never dreamt about him!" she insisted in a screech, "And are you such a possessive prat that you can't stand the thought that someone kissed me?"

"No," He began indignantly, "I mean...well." he fumbled as he searched for a proper rebuttal, "I didn't know, at least you never told me, in any case. What am I supposed to think, finding out from Ginny that you did that? You practically hid it."

"I didn't hide anything." Hermione knotted her arms across her chest, "I chose not to share unnecessary information with you, for exactly this reason."

"What reason?"

"You being a jealous-sod!"

"I was not jealous," Ron enunciated the words with care and fury, "I was confused. You are insufferable and maddening. You stand there, all sarcastic and superior, expecting me not to feel like a place-holder, while you're off snogging whoever you fancy."

"You're such a prat!" she spat, and then hollered furiously, "Does that mean I should snog you?"

"Well, do you fancy me?!" He called in challenge.

Hermione stared back, eyes alight and unable to snap back a remark; she replied with a guttural sigh, like a feral cat growling. She fisted the front of his robes in her hands, and yanked him down to her eye-level, she carried through the motion to kiss him.

It wasn't a desperate rush, as Lavender had always preferred. Surely it was urgent, but much angrier. A lopsided clash of teeth and lips, fueled by the heat of an unspoken argument.

Hermione finally released his robes and the moment ended. Fuming and embarrassed, she motioned to go, but he held her to her place, his hands on her shoulders asking her not to leave. Seeing water in her eyes, he wrapped her in his arms and captured her mouth in a kiss.

There was less effort this time; it was almost familiar. As if in conversation, their mouths moved to counter each other. Wherever she pressed deeper, Ron pushed back. Hermione invited his rebuttals to her movements. They pulled each other in as close as physics would allow.

Leaving each other breathless, they parted from the kiss only to wrap another in a tight and intimate hug.

Ron savored the perfection of the crook of his chin curving over the crown of her head, as she leaned into his pounding heart. He caught their reflection in the full length mirror on the wall across the room. It might as well have been the Mirror Of Erised for how spectacular the view was.

"Just for clarity's sake," Ron said thickly, to their reflection, "That's a yes?"

Even in the mirror her massive hair concealed her face. Ron heard her sniffle out a laugh.

"Yes," Her smile pressed in his shirtfront, "Always."

"Always, eh?" Ron perked up. Her smile broke into a laughing grin.

"Watch your luck, Ron," She warned in amusement, "You've cost me over half our Herbology period."

"You still want to go to class?" Ron asked, incredulous and crestfallen.

"Always." She repeated, cheekily.

"That's gonna get old," Ron observed, with a smirk.

"What would you like to do?" Hermione asked rhetorically, slipping from his grasp, "Stay here? Get caught coming down the dorm stairs together for everyone to see?"

"'Be a bit too good to be true, wouldn't it?" Ron's ears warmed as he remembered he still had a girlfriend to break-up with.

"Yeah," Hermione said stiffly, obviously thinking the same thing. They parted entirely, Hermione sat back on her knees, and Ron moved beside her at the edge of the bed. Side by side, blankly processing the precious moments that had passed between them.

"I suppose I will get to class first..." Hermione broke the silence.

"Yeah," Ron replied, still dazed by his predicament.

"Don't be long?" She said quietly, climbing off the bed and straightening her robes to leave.

Glumly, he assured her with a shake of his head, and she briskly left.

Ron stared into another mirror on the opposite wall of the dormitory. Did that even just happen? Was he in some fantastically real facsimile? A day dream like the ones Fred and George sold in their shop?

No, he thought, what kind of monster would design a fantasy without a happy ending?

"Not that I deserve one," Ron mumbled, knowing full well, he was exactly the monster that would sabotage his own dreams.

He moved from his own pathetic reflection to the door Hermione disappeared out of. He shook his head a couple more times to be certain this wasn't an illusion patented by Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Humbled and satisfied with his reality, he stood to collect his books and head to class. Dreams had troubled him enough for one day.