"You're a figment of my imagination," Ron told the girl in the blue-checked pinafore. Restlessly he paced in the hallway. He had deduced her name easily; it was embroidered on the frilly shirt she wore. A hallucination wouldn't be complete without all the bells and whistles, I suppose.

Leonie was sitting down at the top of the stairs, staring at him with a bored expression. Her thumb rested in her mouth, but she shifted it to the side and announced, "Papa, I'm hungry."

"And that," he said triumphantly, waggling a finger. "Freudian slip. Obviously my subconscious is telling me that I want to sleep with Hermione."

"Applesauce," she clarified. "Want applesauce."

"I don't have any applesauce," he bit out, turning around again.

Her face crumpled up and she began sniffling. "Want applesauce, Papa. You no love me no more?"

Ron muttered an expletive and scooped the little girl up. "I'm very sorry, Leonie, but I don't have any. And I certainly don't know any spells regarding the creation of it. Maybe later we can run to the market, okay?" He ruffled her hair and dabbed at her eyes with the edge of his sleeve. "Cheer up, kid, we don't need a watering pot." He shifted her to one side. "You look tired."

"Don't want to take a nap," she told him sleepily, burrowing into his side.

"I think you need one," Ron said, but left it at that. He started to walk down the hall. Her erratic sniffles turned to regular breathing, and at the very instant she dropped into sleep...

...she disappeared.

Why were you comforting an illusion? he chided himself, shaking his head in disgust. "I should take a nap," he said.

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Hallo to you, too; lovely of you to knock."

Ron threw him a look. "Shut it, this is serious. I'm going loony."

Harry folded his arms. "Would you like to provide reasons or do you just plan to lament about your mental instability?"

Ron quickly explained the situation, which, of course, required him getting off the bed and wandering around the room like a caged animal.

Harry absorbed the information and cocked his head. "What if she wasn't an illusion?"

"I don't see any other reasonable explanation." Ron leaned against the closet, which had one of those newfangled accordion-style doors. "She couldn't have been a ghost. The Grangers haven't lived here that long, and she undeniably resembled Hermione."

"Maybe not a shade of the past," Harry said slowly, "but what about a shade of the future?"

Ron lost his balance and fell backwards, forcing the door open with the crown of his head and landing uncomfortably on a pair of shoes.

A pair of shoes that appeared to be attached to a pair of legs.

Ron's eyes traveled upward to discover that the shoes and the legs belonged to his sister, whose shirt was buttoned in a chaotic, slapdash manner.

"Hi, Ron," Ginny said weakly, a constrained smile flickering on her face. "Fancy meeting you here."

Ron scrambled to his feet. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well," she said, coughing.

He spun around and jerked a thumb back at his sister. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"We haven't done anything," Harry said defensively.

Ron's face was skeptical.

"And even if we have," Ginny said hastily, "we've been really careful."

Ron's hands flew to his ears. "I do not want to hear about this," he groaned. "I'm getting out of here."

"Good," the other two said in unison.

"If you touch her, I will kill you," Ron threatened, and stomped out of the room.

"Where are your friends, dear?" her mother asked, wafting the steam above the pumpkin pie towards her nose.

Hermione spread her hands wide. "Beats me," she said. "They'll turn up eventually."

Ron slid into the kitchen, skidding across the floor in his stocking feet. "Is that pie?" he demanded.

"It does have that general consistency," Hermione said wryly.

"Dr. Granger, I would love you forever if I could have a piece," he proclaimed.

"It's still warm, but you certainly may partake of it shortly," her mother said graciously, for some reason proud of her manufactured domesticity.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked pointedly.

"I'm going insane," he said easily, taking the proffered pie from her mother. His face wrinkled in incomprehension for a second, then said, "Can I have a fork?"

Hermione pulled the utensil from a nearby drawer and handed it to him. "You're going insane?"

"Uh huh," he replied with a mouthful of pie.

"Are you just going to leave it at that?" she said, amused.

"You can't expect me to think and eat pie at the same time," he said injuredly. He smiled briefly. "Excellent pie, by the way, Dr. Granger."

"You're a nice boy," her mother said fondly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's go somewhere," she suggested.

"Soon as I finish."

She opened her bedroom door and beckoned him in. "Now, what is this about?"

He entered and shut the door quietly. "I don't know," he said. "I suppose I-"

He stopped talking, and simply gawked at her open closet.

"What?" she asked.

He removed an item from the closet, one hand closed in a fist and shaking. "What is this?"

It was perhaps her favorite childhood outfit; a blue and white dress with a ruffled undershirt. "Just a little matched set handed down through my family. The collar on the shirt gets unstitched and then resewn with the new name on it."

Ron stood silent- a mean trick, indeed. "Hermione," he said carefully, "what would you name a little girl?"

"Leonora," she said promptly.

"Oh, my god," he said, eyes widening.

And he bolted from the room.

"Ron," she said, breathless, grabbing his shoulders. "What is wrong with you?"

Ron looked down into her eyes, and he didn't really have an answer for her. So, he did the next best thing.

He kissed her.

He laced his fingers in her thick brown hair and brought his mouth against hers, closing all distance between them.

When he broke it off, she looked very perplexed. Then she guided her gaze upward and said, "Oh. Mistletoe."

"Right," Ron said quickly, laughing feebly. Now, that was kismet if he'd ever felt it. "Er, I have to go. To my room. To... organize my socks."

"Bye," he added swiftly as he turned.

Ron just kissed me.

Her mind was fogged with elation; she couldn't quite believe it.

Ginny burst into Hermione's bedroom. "I have big news," she said.

"Me too," Hermione responded, poising her teacup for another sip. "You first."

Ginny made sure the door was closed and said bluntly, "Ron wants to sleep with you."

Hermione sputtered and sprayed the hot liquid all over her coverlet. "Did he tell you that?"

"Of course not," she said impatiently, blowing her bangs out of her face. "He told Harry. I was hiding in the closet at the time."

"What were you doing in the closet?"

"That's not important," Ginny said. "Ron is seeing apparitions in the hallway; well, just one, I guess, but I think that's enough, considering she keeps calling him 'Papa.' Oh, her name is Leonie and she looks like you. So Ron thinks he's quite mad- not angry mad, mad like a hatter; Harry thinks Ron's having visions; and I think your cousin is saying something dirty in German to me all the time but I don't know what it means."

"What is he saying?" Hermione asked, not quite ready to digest the rest of the information.

"Nizzakolben," Ginny repeated.

"That's not too bad," Hermione assured her. "It means 'Nice butt.'"

She inspected said anatomical part in the mirror. "It is rather shapely, isn't it?" she said admiringly.

"I couldn't tell you," Hermione said.

"Oh, that reminds me," her friend said. "What was your news?"

"Ron kissed me."

Ginny blinked. "I'd pump you for the details, but I think it'd be kind of sick, don't you? As he is my brother and all."

Hermione laughed and pushed her out of the room. "Go talk to Harry."

Ron peered down the stairs. "Er, hullo?" he said tentatively.

If possible, her skin was more wrinkled than the twins' laundry. Her mouth was pursed. "Who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," he said cautiously. "I'm a friend of Hermione's from school."

"Come, let me get a closer look at you," she commanded.

Ron padded down the stairs and stuck out his hand. Instead of shaking it, the woman turned it over and inspected his palm. "Honest hands," she said appraisingly. "I'm Hermione's grandmother."

"Nice to meet you." Ron glanced down at her. He was nearly two heads taller than the woman.

"You may call me Lady Barbara," she said cordially. "I am a baroness."

Well, what was one supposed to say to that? Ron began scanning for an exit.

The baroness rapped her cane against his knee. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you, boy," she thundered.

"Sorry, Lady Barbara," Ron said quickly.

"Herr Weasley!" The voice appeared quite suddenly behind him.

Ron turned around slowly, dread increasing with each inch.

Günter bared his teeth. "I have been looking all over for you."

"Great," Ron muttered.

"Hans, isn't it?" the baroness inquired.

"Günter," the German corrected, eyes flitting past Ron.

"Come to leech off my daughter and son-in-law, I suppose?" There wasn't much question in it.

"I am kin," he shrugged. "It is not so bad."

"Not my kin," Lady Barbara said with an aristocratic sniff.

Evidently this triggered his memory of her rank, and his purpose changed. "Did you know, Baroness, that you have eyes like the ocean?" Günter's charm began to flow out in thick waves.

The baroness was startled, but after a few compliments, she almost began to purr.

Ron was suitably disgusted, but since the two of them were occupied, he ascended the stairs and slipped into his bedroom.

But not today.

He was tired. His brain had been trying to cope with strange things all day, and he needed a nap. The pie from earlier had settled in his stomach and added to the overall drowsy feeling.

He stripped off his shirt and crawled underneath some blankets. The sheets felt nice and cool beneath him, and the pillow was heavenly soft. A yawn later, he was on the blissful edge of sleep.

An artful cough denied it to him.

His eyes flew to the door, where the little girl stood.

"Papa," she said softly, eyes wet with tears, "I had a bad dream."

Ron sighed and lifted up the edge of his blanket. "You can nap with me, then."

Leonie clambered up and snuggled against him. "Fank you, Papa." The last thing Ron remembered before falling into slumber was how... nice.. it felt to have her by him.

"A little less than an hour," Nancy replied. "Dinner is ready, so your mum told me to find you and your friends."

"Ah," she responded. "You can go in, I'll make sure I tell them."

"Alright, dear," her aunt said, bustling towards the dining area.

Hermione found Harry and Ginny easily. She advised Ginny to fix her hair and clothes before she ventured downstairs. Harry blushed furiously at the comment, but Ginny didn't seem to be disturbed.

Neither of them had seen Ron.

She walked by Ron's bedroom. The door was slightly open but the lights weren't on. She almost kept on walking, but a niggling feeling in her stomach told her to check anyway. Sure enough, when she lit the room, she found him dozing in the bed.

He looked peaceful. She almost didn't want to wake him, but a hungry, cranky Ron was definitely worse than just a cranky Ron.

Hermione crossed the room and gently shook his shoulders. "Ron," she said gently. "Dinner."

He didn't even stir.

She placed the back of his hand on his forehead. He didn't seem to be feverish. "Ron," she repeated.

His eyelashes lay still against his face. She leaned down and inspected the peculiar shade of gold. She'd never noticed how long they were before. Her face hovered two inches above his for an agonizingly long moment, then she brought her lips down to his.

It was the briefest of touches. She drew her head back sharply, as if she'd been burned. I can't believe I just did that.

Ron's body shifted, revealing his lack of shirt. "'Mione?" he mumbled.

"Wake up, slugabed," she said lightly. "It's time for dinner."

"Could you get me a shirt?" His eyes weren't quite focused. "Second drawer."

Hermione selected something from the drawer and handed it to him. He slid it over his head and yawned.

"Would have slept more," Ron said, still tired, "but she had a nightmare. Had to make sure she was okay first."

"She?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Leonie," he said, yawning again. "What are we having for dinner?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, deciding not to press the issue. "But they'll be put out if we're much later."

"I'm coming," he grumbled.

He made it down the hallway fine, he was alert by the time they descended the stairs, and he was nearly normal once they reached the dining room.

"What took you so long?" asked Ginny. She wriggled her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Nothing," Ron said, sending her a dirty look.

"Well," Harry piped up, "this should prove interesting."