Midnight Feast

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She had to eat something. He was sure of that.

Yes, she was being stupid, but there was no way he was going to stand by and watch her starve.

Ron struggled to balance his large tray of food while trying to keep Harry's invisibility cloak from slipping off at the same time. He could see the portrait hole just up ahead. Thank Merlin, Filch hadn't come by. His midnight adventure had gone without mishap.

For the last week or so, Hermione had been boycotting most of the food at Hogwarts due to the fact that it was a product of 'slave labor.' She thought she was being noble. Ron thought she was being ridiculous. After all, the House Elves at Hogwarts were treated well and passionately loved any and every kind of work.

Ron clamored through the portrait hole, throwing aside the invisibility cloak as he did so. The common room was silent and empty. Everyone had gone to bed...well, almost everyone.

She was right where he left her. Hermione lay fast asleep on the couch near the still-blazing fire. She was dressed in her school robes and was using her History of Magic book as a pillow.

"Um, Hermione?" Ron stood over her, unsure of how to wake her up. He settled for patting her shoulder. "Hermione."

Hermione rolled onto her back and gave a tiny groan before blinking her eyes open. Her forehead creased and she frowned, "Ron, how did you get in my bedroom? You shouldn't be in here."

"You fell asleep in the common room." Ron explained quickly, the tips of his ears going red at her comment.

"Oh, I guess I did..." Hermione sat up slowly rubbing her head. "What time is it?"

"Midnight, I think." After a moment of hesitation, Ron set the heavy tray down on the coffee table in front of them before sitting down next to her.

"What's all that for?" Hermione looked confusedly at the food before her.

"For you. You haven't been eating much and I thought you'd be hungry." Ron mumbled.

Hermione looked mildly surprised at this act of kindness. Then her gaze darkened. "If you went to the kitchens and had those poor elves make up this tray for you, then you might as well just take it right b—

"I made it all myself."

There was a pause. "Really?" Hermione glanced sideways at him.

"Yeah. I mean it wasn't that hard." Ron gestured at the tray on which sat a large pile of different kinds of sandwiches, a bowl of mixed fruit, half a chocolate cake and a jug of pumpkin juice. "Okay, maybe I didn't make the cake but you don't have to eat that if you don't want to."

"T-thank you Ron." Hermione still looked a little taken aback by this unexpected kindness. Without further ado she reached for a ham sandwich and began to devour it eagerly.

Ron grinned and reached for a sandwich himself. His plan had not ended in disaster. They sat side by side eating the midnight feast.

After a while of eating in silence, Ron felt pressured to say something. And that 'something' happened to be the first random topic on his mind, "What do you think of that Yule Ball McGonagall mentioned yesterday? Sounds like murder."

"I think it'll be fun actually." Hermione contradicted, finishing her fourth sandwich. "I've never been to a ball before."

"Neither have I." Ron admitted. "What exactly goes on at a ball?"

"Dancing, obviously." Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for another sandwich.

"Dancing?"

"Really Ron, you don't know what dancing is?"

"Of course I know what dancing is." Ron answered defensively, "It's just...well, do I have to?"

"I don't think anyone will force you to, but you should at least try. You might like it."

"Fat chance."

"Really Ronald, dancing isn't that bad." Hermione rolled her eyes at his reaction.

Ron made no reply to this and instead reached for a piece of chocolate cake. There was a prolonged moment of silence.

"I suppose we'll all have to get dates, for the ball I mean," Hermione spoke as calmly as if mentioning an upcoming homework assignment.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. The temperature in the room seemed to have become strangely warm as Ron's mind cautiously examined the toxic idea of asking a girl to the ball. No one was going to force him to ask anyone. Simply not asking anyone seemed the safest route to travel. But then again, he'd look like a loser if he showed up dateless to the ball. Dean and Seamus would never let him hear the end of it. Okay, so he needed a date...but who?

The dazzling image of Fleur Delacour passed through his head. If there was ever anyone who was too far above him, it was her. There were the other girls in his year; Parvati, Lavender...his mind came to a screeching halt...Hermione. He felt a blush rise in his cheeks. There was no way he could ask Hermione to the Yule Ball. No. Possible. Way. She'd just laugh at him...Ron was suddenly aware of how close he was sitting to her and how pretty she looked in the semi-darkness. He felt his ears redden.

When Ron's only reaction to her comment was silence, Hermione sighed. "I think I'll go up and try to get a few more hours of sleep."

As she stood to leave, Ron continued to sit on the couch, brow furrowed in thought. She could've sworn his ears were red, but maybe it was just the light from the fire.

Hermione shook her head, inwardly amused. That comment she made about the Ball must have scared him. "Thanks for the food, Ron. "

That finally seemed to shake him out his thoughtful silence. "Y-yeah. No problem."

She gave him a brief smile before heading up the stairs to bed.

Ron continued to sit contemplating the looming disaster of a ball, the remains of a midnight feast lying before him and the image of Hermione's smile drifting in the forefront of his mind.  

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