A/N:  I think was originally for something on the “Getting Serious about Fluff” thread.  I came across it the other day and thought it was post-worthy.

Ron’s Planner

She needed to finish her wrapping.  Only two were left.  Hermione looked at the boxes one last time.  Would this do it?  Was she being too obvious?  Maybe this was … too much.  But subtlety has been a wash.  Hints were not her style.  She needed an anvil.  She smiled at the mental picture of herself with eyelashes fluttering and leaning suggestively on a strong arm.  No, playing the coquette was not her style.  I hate bouillabaisse! 

She lifted Harry’s gift and gently leafed through the pages.  All their birthdays were marked of course.  Ginny’s, too.  September first.  She hoped the drawing of the Troll would remind him of that first Halloween.  She knew marking the Quidditch matches was okay.  Not that he would need reminding.  Gently, she laid his book in the box and waved her wand with a gentle flourish to close and wrap the gift.

She looked into the second box.  She reached inside to lift out the book but pulled her hand back before she touched it.  She tried again, with the same result.  She laughed at herself.  I can’t even control my own actions!  Hugging herself both for comfort and to give her hands something to do, she crossed the room to the window.  She didn’t need to look through that book to see its contents.  Every date that had any meaning – any meaning whatsoever - was marked.  Every holiday.  Every Quidditch match.  Every Chudley match.  Complete with starting times and opponents.  Every Hogsmeade weekend.  The birthdays of all their friends.  All those dates were safe.  Well, Valentine’s Day might be a risk, but since all the holidays were marked, that didn’t count.  As a hint, Valentine’s Day would sail right over his ginger head!  No, the only thing inside the entire planner that left her feeling exposed was a teensy drawing.  A small drawing done in red on March first.  You’d think it was drawn in blood, not ink, for all the pain it’s causing me.

Ridiculous!  She turned and slashed her wand at the remaining box.  Like a tornado, the box, paper and ribbon whirled in a storm over her bed until the wrapped gift plopped onto her bedspread, nearly tipping over before settling next to Harry’s gift.  There!  Done!  Now he’ll know.  Even Ron Weasley can’t fail to understand why a girl would mark his birthday with a red heart! 

The only way he could miss this clue would be to throw the planner into his trunk, without a glance, for the rest of fifth year.