Warnings: No smut, silly Lavender, references to het kissing.

Author's/Artist's Note: Written for Harry Ron Holidays on Live Journal. Thanks to my beta, luvscharlie.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement in intended.

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"I love Christmas," Harry sighed.

"Mince pies, turkey with stuffing and bacon and those little sausages, trifle, roast potatoes, candy canes, cranberry sauce ..." Ron looked dreamy.

"I was thinking more of a day off work in front of a warm fire."

"If only Evil took Christmas off." Ron shuffled to wake up his numb buttocks. "Brandy butter, stilton, roast parsnips ..." He pulled a face. "I wish I hadn't started this. I've made myself hungry now."

"We - we - we get the day off, don't we ...?" Harry asked nervously.

"Don't think so. Oh. Christmas pudding. I love Christmas pudding so much. The way the raisins stick to my teeth. Check the rota."

"Whose stupid idea was it to become Aurors anyway?" Harry muttered as he dug around in his knapsack. He pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper and cast Lumos. "This light ok? Any sign of Dark wizards out there?"

Ron continued to stare blankly out of the little window. "Not a crumb," he said.

"Crumb?"

"When's lunchtime?"

"Oh, bugger! We don't get a free day until the 29th and then we're back on that night. All night."

Harry looked so unhappy that Ron patted his arm. "We'll do something special," he said, "just the two of us."

Harry's returning smile was weak but genuine. "That'll be nice."

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Oliver and Michael relieved them at eight the next morning and they crawled exhausted into their sleeping bags in the roof space of the croft they were spying from. By midday, Ron was awake again and, by the time he was washed and dressed, so was Harry.

Harry cast a 'tempus'.

"How long until we're back on shift?" Ron asked him.

"Four hours until we next get to stare at an obviously empty lodge entirely devoid of Dark Wizards," Harry replied. "You wanna go back to sleep?"

"We could go out," Ron replied, adding, "together," in what he hoped was a meaningful way.

"I'm sick of these whitewashed walls. Where's safe?"

"Pub lunch? A Muggle pub in the country? Maybe a walk first?"

"You're suggesting a walk before food?"

Ron thought for a moment. "Walk after?"

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The eighteenth century coaching inn was at the bottom of a sunlit valley, surrounded by fir-lined hills, with a twisty stream running beside it. Everything glittered in the clear winter air. It was lovely and romantic; surely nobody could miss how romantic it was.

"I suppose this is what they call picturesque," was all Harry said.

Inside, Ron tried to sit on a high-backed bench facing the fire, but Harry chose stools at the bar instead. Ron had scampi and chips; Harry had anchovy pasta with garlic bread. When he smelt his breath, Ron wished he'd had some garlic, too. Ron suggested a bottle of wine. Harry got excited by the list of real ales available. He kept reading out the descriptions and laughing, his eyes permanently on the laminated sheet, while Ron's gaze stayed on him.

Ron had had some idea that a winter walk would provide opportunities for snuggling close – but, of course, a Warming Charm meant that didn't happen. They couldn't talk about their case or anything else to do with work, not with all these Muggles around. Somehow, though, Ron still never managed to bring up the things he really wanted to discuss. The silence between them was comfortable, but it wasn't what he wanted.

Too soon, they were back in the croft and Oliver and Michael were heading off to relieve another watch. There were just the two of them in that room, sitting by the window, staring out at the unchanging view. It should have been easy to say something then, but it wasn't. It was no surprise, Ron had wanted Harry to know how he felt for years and he'd never managed to say anything. Why should now be any different?

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A couple of days later, Ron was making toast and tea when he heard an Apparition 'pop' followed by Harry's indignant "What are you doing here? You're not an Auror!"

Then there was a laugh – one which had once given Ron nightmares – followed by the high-pitched, giggly explanation: "I've been assigned to Auror Support because there's so much going on. I've had to make oaths of secrecy and everything. It's so exciting! Where's my Won-Won? I heard he was with you."

Ron thought about hiding. It was childish to hide from an ex, especially one who had been his girlfriend when they were schoolchildren – but Ron had never gone around claiming to be mature. He was pretty sure that Harry would be prepared to cover for him.

"You can't see him!" Harry said. He sounded defensive and protective. Maybe even jealous? He could have just said that Ron wasn't there.

Ron was intrigued, so he stepped through into the front room. Lavender squealed with delight. Ron was more interested in the supplies which accompanied her than he was in the simpering witch. Harry wasn't looking down at the hampers on the floor, though, he was looking upwards with an expression of horror. Ron followed his gaze.

Just as Ron registered that what he was looking at was mistletoe, Lavender pounced. He tried to prise her arms from his shoulders and her open wet lips from his firmly closed mouth. Her big, pointy breasts pushed into his chest. Finally, he managed to shove her off and she fell to the floor. He wiped at his mouth.

"Merry Christmas, Ron!" Lavender gushed as she picked herself up.

Ron was about to start shouting at her when he saw Harry's face. He was livid – and that was the loveliest thing which Ron had seen in a long time, so he felt a bit warmer towards Lavender.

"Merry Christmas, Lavender," he replied with cold politeness.

"Are you going to the Ministry's New Year's Eve party, Ronnie baby?" She pouted and thrust her breasts towards him.

He shrugged. The more she flirted, the more cross Harry got, and the more Ron liked it. "We're working that night, I'm afraid."

"Oooh," she whined. "I thought we could have gone together."

"Sorry," Ron replied. "These all for us?" He turned his attention back to their provisions.

"Oh. No. One's for the – oops, not supposed to tell, am I?" She giggled. "I'm not very good at this secret thing." She took hold of the largest of the three hampers and, before he could stop her, bobbed up to peck Ron on the cheek. "'Bye, sweetheart," she breathed sexily, added a curt, "'Bye, Harry," then did a cute little finger-waggling wave as she pouted sexily and slowly Apparated.

"Not very good at this secret thing?" Harry exploded. "What the fuck is Kingsley thinking? I hope her oath makes her break out in pustulous boils every time she reveals Auror secrets."

Ron couldn't hide his grin. "I made toast," he said.

As they sat by the window eating and drinking, Harry kept muttering about 'silly cows', and Ron noticed that Lavender had left her mistletoe behind.

"I suppose we should take a look and see what she brought us," Ron said. Harry glared up at the mistletoe. "I meant in the hampers?" Ron added.

They opened up one each and rooted through, sighing and making appreciative noises.

"It's a pity neither of us can cook," Harry said.

"Actually ..." Ron replied pensively, turning over a monkfish.

"No, you can't."

"I learnt. After the Horcrux hunt, I asked Mum to teach me."

"Why?"

"Well, I realised that I didn't know and I thought that, you know, well, it might be a good idea."

Harry still looked sceptical. "Your mum taught you to cook? As well as she does?"

"Pretty much." Ron pulled out a tin of golden syrup. He smiled. "First of all, she said I wouldn't need to know if I married the right girl." He shrugged. "But I figure that, you know, if you fall in love with someone and you know they can't, well, it would make sense if, maybe, one day you might live together if – you know – one of you could."

"Yeah," Harry replied and Ron thought that possibly he had actually understood what Ron had been trying to say. Until Harry added, "Hermione iwas/i pretty rubbish. Her food was practically inedible most of the time."

Ron sighed. "But she was right. We only expected her to do it because she's a girl. I just thought ..." He shrugged. There was no point in continuing this conversation. He went back to the window to watch the unchanging lodge and to plan menus.

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The next evening, while Harry kept watch and wrote up the log, Ron used the basic range in the back room to create a work of culinary genius. He charmed their flimsy card table into something much more substantial and set it with a white tablecloth, silver cutlery and candles.

"Come and sit down," he urged Harry as he levitated it into the room.

"Wow!" Harry said. "This is like a restaurant."

"If we can't get out to one ..." Ron shrugged. They were lit only by the candles. It was romantic. Definitely, that was what it was. Romantic.

"Cool!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron Summoned the first tureen.

"What's that then?" Harry asked. "Soup?"

"The starter. French onion soup."

"That's my favourite!"

"Is it really?" Ron asked softly, almost as though he had not known.

Harry loved it. He was also very appreciative of the grilled monkfish with pesto mash and miniature glazed carrots. The treacle tart and custard was the outright winner, though. Ron just sat back and enjoyed his delighted expression as Harry ate his favourite dessert.

"That was fantastic!" Harry enthused when he had finished. He rubbed at his tummy. "I'll wash the dishes in a minute. I'm too stuffed to move now."

"Don't worry about the dishes," Ron murmured. He leaned forward and looked into Harry's contented face through the candle light. "Let's just relish this moment." He paused. "Look, Harry, I've been meaning to say something."

"I can't stay upright," Harry announced before slipping off his chair and lying down on the floor.

Ron came down to lie next to him. He looked up at the mistletoe floating above their heads and took a moment to muster his courage. He had faced Dark wizards and werewolves, giant spiders and his mother in a temper. Surely he was brave enough to tell his best friend how he really felt about him.

"The thing is, Harry," he began. "For a few years now, I've been thinking about, well, about us and – you know – I mean you are my best friend. But I think there's something ... I mean I feel like something else – more – something more might be – well, I don't know ... . More, or a bit different. Not just friendship. Do you know what I mean?"

Harry made an odd snorting noise; Ron turned so that he could see Harry's face, to try to work out what he meant by it. Harry's eyes were closed and Ron realised that he was snoring.

The mistletoe hung over them as a temptation and a reminder of his inability to act until Christmas Day.

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Most nights, they took it in turns to sleep. Every so often, they had a full leave with two Aurors covering them and they could get out of the croft. More usually though, one cover Auror would be sent every few days so that they could both get a full night's sleep. On Christmas Eve, with the mistletoe still hovering above them, to Ron's horror, Cho Chang appeared. He looked upwards when she arrived, and she followed his gaze.

"Interesting," she said.

What made things worse was that Harry looked pleased to see her. He settled down for a cosy chat while Ron fumed in the doorway.

"We have to get to bed," Ron said.

"So, Harry, how have you been?" Cho asked.

Harry looked right back at her, transfixed. "Better for seeing you," he replied.

Ron nearly choked. "We're supposed to be getting some sleep," he said, belligerently. "She's here to let us sleep so we can do our jobs properly tomorrow."

"You'd best be off then," Cho said. "Night, night, Ron."

As he stomped off upstairs, he heard her say, "I see you have mistletoe up, Harry."

Ron lay in his bed, waiting, fuming and trying to hear what was going on below him. There was no noise. He hoped that didn't mean that they had cast a silencing charm.

Eventually Harry returned. He had a spaced-out look on his face and kept touching his lips. "Thought you were asleep," he murmured.

Ron grunted.

"That was different," Harry said. "Not so wet. Nice."

Ron growled quietly in annoyance. He knew what Harry was talking about: she had kissed him. It had only taken her a few minutes to do it. Ron was annoyed with himself as much as he was resentful of her. He had spent years wanting to kiss Harry and still he had failed to do it.

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Ron couldn't sleep. He lay fuming in his cot instead. Eventually, as dawn broke, he stomped downstairs. Cho was sitting at the window; she turned her glossy, well-styled head when he came in.

"You can go now," he snapped. "I'm awake."

"But I was hoping to see Harry at breakfast," she replied, "to wish him a happy Christmas."

"There's no point. I'm relieving you."

"You never liked me, did you, Ron? Was it just a matter of me supporting the wrong Quidditch team?"

He sighed dramatically. "I don't dislike you."

"What did I do wrong? I never understood this animosity you have towards me. You and your sister. Go on, tell me."

"Look, just go. I'm not discussing this now."

"In Ginny's case, I thought that she was probably just jealous. But you? I don't know."

Ron sat pointedly in the window seat and picked up her log documenting the night's events. "Nothing happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," she agreed. "Has anything ever happened?"

"No. I don't know why we're still watching. We just follow orders." He looked her in the eye. "I've got this. Go home. It's Christmas. Celebrate it."

She stood, shrugged and Apparated away.

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When Harry came downstairs a few hours later, Ron didn't look away from the window.

"Merry Christmas," Harry said. "Where's Cho?" He waited. "You in a mood with me?"

He was just about to go back out to the range to make a pot of tea, when Ron said, "I think there's a light."

"What?" All the sleep fell away from Harry and he bounded over to the window. After months staked out here watching nothing, it seemed almost impossible that something was finally happening.

"Is that a candle, moving around inside? That bottom left window?" Ron handed over the omnioculars.

"Yes. I think. I'm not sure."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "could be the sunlight reflected on the glass."

Harry stood up. "I'm going to see what it is."

"We should get back-up first."

"There won't be anyone in the office today. I'm just having a closer look."

"We're supposed to call on one of the other teams -"

It was just as Ron was speaking that everything happened at once. Three Patronuses appeared, all asking for assistance, two hooded figures burst out of the front door of the lodge and a Dark Mark appeared in the sky above it.

Ron and Harry drew their wands and ran for the door at the same time. They were trying to muster a plan of attack between them as the fourth Patronus arrived and started speaking over the other three. They were all talking about Dark wizards and how they needed back-up urgently.

"No point in us sending them one, too," Ron said breathlessly.

Harry agreed. "Would have to be Christmas Day that they finally crawled out into the light," he muttered.

"They'll have known we'd be short-staffed," Ron said. "Shit! They've got a Muggle."

The two Aurors were out on the heath by this time, wands held up in front of them. It was true – a middle-aged woman was being dragged along by the two hooded figures below them. She wasn't struggling so, if she was still alive, she was either unconscious or under Imperius.

There wasn't time for subterfuge or invisibility, so the two of them ran out towards the Death Eaters, firing off hexes as they went.

Ron managed to stun one of them, but the other immobilised one of Harry's legs. Then the screams of the Muggle woman filled the air, so the one Ron had hit must have been controlling her. Harry Silenced and Levitated her, sending her off towards the croft. He dragged his numb leg behind him as he struggled after Ron, who was still running at full pace towards the lodge. Ron caught the remaining hooded figure with a stinging hex to the eyes, which stopped him long enough for Harry to stun him and to tie them to each other.

Ron re-energised Harry's leg. They left the two immobilised Dark wizards on the slushy ground while they cautiously entered the Lodge. There was nobody in either of the reception rooms downstairs, though there was evidence that there had been a recent fire in one of the grates. The mess in the kitchen at the back made it look as though they had been using the Muggle woman as a slave for some time. The Aurors both swore quietly.

"Better get her picked up by the medical team," Harry said.

"Check out upstairs first," Ron replied.

The bathroom stank of Dark Magic and several of the mirrors in there had been converted for communications purposes. In one, they could see Dean and Ginny binding a Dark witch and reciting her rights. Not that she had many apart from the right to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban.

Ron and Harry gathered up several banned potions and books and neutralised the Dark objects in the room. Apart from a couple of proudly displayed Death Eater masks, the bedrooms were pretty safe-looking.

Harry Apparated back to the croft to deal with the Muggle victim and hand her over to the correct Authorities while Ron took their prisoners into custody. When he made contact with the other teams of Aurors, he found that the attempted Dark Rising had been just as effectively quashed in all the other places it had been attempted.

Evil might not take Christmas off, but it was no match for Good, even when Good was short-staffed.

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By the afternoon, it was all over and Ron and Harry were back in the croft, packing up their belongings.

"I'm hungry!" Ron announced suddenly.

"We've missed Christmas dinner," Harry said sadly.

"Roast potatoes, little sausages, chestnut stuffing ..."

"Stop it!" Harry said with a laugh. "You'll only make yourself feel worse. We'll have a proper dinner tonight, once we've sorted out this lot."

"Not a lot to sort out," Ron answered. "We could stop for a sandwich?"

"Bit of a nasty Christmas surprise, that," Harry commented. "Close call. I mean it turned out all right, but we could have been ..."

They could have been killed. And if they had been, then Harry would never have known. Ron looked up at the mistletoe which had been taunting him for days. He looked over at Harry, who was shrinking the hampers and the card table. They had been alone together in this croft for weeks; he would never have as good an opportunity as that again, and Ron had blown it.

He still had a few minutes. Ron didn't allow himself to think – he just marched across the small room, grabbed Harry by the shoulders and brought their lips together. Harry pushed him away.

"What?" Harry asked. He looked confused. "Why did you do that?"

"Harry, I'm in love with you," Ron stated simply.

"Oh!" Harry paused. Ron could see the thoughts passing across Harry's face. Ron was about to apologise, when Harry said, "I see. Ok." He sat down. "I like you, Ron. I like you better than anyone." Ron waited for the 'but'. "I like being with you. I don't know." He shuffled along the window seat. "Can you sit next to me?"

Ron couldn't move. He was steeling himself for rejection.

"Is it too painful? Can you bear to?" Harry looked concerned. "Ron? Please?"

Ron sat down next to Harry. "Ok?' Ron asked.

"It's good. It's always been good. Comfortable." Harry paused. They were squashed together on the tiny seat; their sides pressed against each other and Harry wasn't trying to edge away. He never had done. "I feel happiest when I'm with you."

Ron nodded. "And Lavender - it annoyed you when she kissed me."

"That's always made me feel angry."

"Maybe, I couldn't help wondering if, perhaps, you might have been jealous?" Ron asked tentatively.

Harry considered that for a moment. Then he put his head down on Ron's shoulder. "Jealousy. Yes. That's what it was." They sat for a moment longer. Ron could practically hear the un-oiled cogs of Harry's brain turning against each other. He gently tried placing his hand on Harry's thigh. Harry didn't flinch. "You know what?" Harry asked. "We should try that kiss again. I wasn't ready for it before."

So they did. For the rest of that day. As far as Ron was concerned, it was more delicious than Christmas dinner and Harry agreed.

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THE END