A Conversation Between Weasel and Bookworm

A Story by Iris

This story is dedicated to Teresa Dale, a kind and passionate friend.

In the Gryffindor Common Room

“But ‘Mioneeeee….”

A whiny voice floated into her hearing range for the millionth time and Hermione resisted the urge to scream. Instead, she pulled at one of her unruly curls, tugging a little too hard. The curl came free. Her eyes filled with tears and she gritted her teeth at the pain.

Pull yourself together Hermione. You’ve suffered the Cruciatus, what’s a little tug compared to that?

Nodding at the truth in those words, Hermione turned to the source of her aggravation, rubbing the spot where the hair used to be.

“WHAT is it Ron? You know how I hate that tone of yours. That’s the reason I don’t ‘help’ you with your homework.”

Ron looked hopeful, then opened his mouth once again. But Hermione beat him to it.

“No, that won’t work either.”

Ron scowled. “But you’re always telling me to ask politely if I want your help. Now that I’m obeying you, you refuse? How hypocritical is that?”

“Wow. Hypocritical. Big word.” Hermione looked at him with fake amazement.

Ron’s ears turned red, his anger and embarrassment simmering to make one, impressive explosion. Harry immediately sensing the impending argument and, of course, ever the peace maker, placed a hand on Ron’s arm.

Keeping his hand there, Harry looked at his other friend. “Hermione, that was a bit uncalled for, don’t you think? After all, Ron was trying to ask you how you like being asked.”

“That was for general things Harry! For the record, I hate being asked for my carefully done work just so that cheaters like you can copy off from it!”

Ron had been still but when he heard Hermione he started to struggle again. “Oi! Who’re you calling a cheater?”

“You! Obviously. I’m tired of you both lazing around when it’s time to do work and cheating off at the last minute. Enough is enough!”

“Lazing around?” Ron yelled, “We do not laze around! We do important work like plan Quidditch matches and improve our social life, which, in case you didn't notice you don't have much of!”

He saw that he'd touched a nerve. Hurt flashed across her face so quickly it was almost as if it had never been there. Guilt persuaded him to apologize but as soon as he opened his mouth he was interrupted by the angry girl in front of him.

She had apparently recovered enough to throw another retort at him.

“Gah! Quidditch is the worst game in the history of risky, dangerous and potentially useless games! Why anyone would be stupid enough to want to participate in that is beyond me!”

And he forgot all about his guilt.

“Don’t you dare insult the best game ever invented! Just because you’re too prissy and scared to climb onto a broom doesn’t mean you can insult someone who can fly!”

Harry scratched his head. He had pretty much lost track of the conversation but weren’t they talking about cheating? Where did Quidditch come from?

“Hey, Hermione, Ron, what’s this about Quidditch?” he said, interrupting their yelling match.

Apparently, Ron was just waiting for someone to side by him, and that gave the Weasley a perfect opening.

“Hermione here is insulting Quidditch, Harry. Tell her to stop!” he said childishly.

“Oh, that’s right! Tell Harry Potter to fix everything! Why don’t you stop me yourself, Ronald Weasley?”

Ron didn’t say anything, just stuck out his tongue.

“How…unsurprisingly immature, Ronald. I really should stop expecting an

intellectually satisfying argument from you.”

Ron clenched his fists, his eyes wild with anger.

“I AM NOT STUPID! AND I’M SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE SAYING THAT I AM! JUST BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO MARRY A LIBRARY DOES NOT MEAN I’M DUMB, ‘MIONE!”

Spit flew from Ron’s mouth, completing the crazy madman picture and his loud voice drawing the attention of everyone in the common room. This was not unusual, but everyone stopped to watch anyway. The bickering pair remained oblivious to the silence, however, and continued their tirades.

Hermione bristled. She hated that nickname. Loathed it. Despised it. Wanted to kill anyone who turned her beautiful name into such a despicable one. And she told Ron as much.

“How many times have I told you I hate that name? It’s loathsome, it’s despicable, and it’s horrible! So in case you want your face hexed. DON’T. CALL. ME. ‘MIONE!”

Ron winced and covered his ears. Hermione looked positively livid, eyes burning with anger. He might’ve been a bit of an airhead but even he knew that provoking Hermione Granger when she was this mad was like insulting Buckbeak.

As in, suicidal.

“Sorry, ‘Mione.”

Every occupant of the room winced. Harry banged his head against the wall, groaning.

Hermione stood there, her mouth open, staring at her stupid best friend. Then, as if someone had shocked her, she came out of her stupor.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU! AAAGH! YOU STUPID, INSENSITIVE PRAT! I JUST TOLD YOU I HATE THAT NAME! I JUST TOLD YOU! I…”

Ron turned to Harry looking bewildered. “What’d I do, mate?”

Harry sighed. He’d have to break it up, wouldn’t he? The whole ‘Savior-of-the Wizarding-World’ thing was getting kind of annoying. He sighed again. He really hated his job. Now that he’d decided, the dilemma remained: how to stop his female friend from tearing Ron’s skin out, without getting injured in the process. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this! He was the Boy-Who-Lived! Therefore, it would be quite embarrassing if he were to die trying to convince his friends not to kill each other.

Meanwhile, the shouting match continued, uninterrupted by Harry’s internal struggles. He took one last breath and stepped between the warring pair, into dangerous territory.

It felt like he’d entered into a giant juke box. The insults bombarded him from both sides, loud enough to render him temporarily deaf. If they were missiles, he thought, I’d be dead by now.

He was snapped into efficient mode as Hermione hurled another accusation at Ron.

“OKAYYYY”, he said loudly. “Break it up, you two. Stop it!”

Then he placed a hand on each of his friend’s shoulders, patting them in an effort to calm them down. He had been in enough arguments to know exactly what they were going to do. Hermione would attempt to shrug his hand off, halfheartedly, but resort to glaring. Ron, on the other hand, had no problem getting violent, and would try to throw Harry’s hand off, face red as Luna’s radish earrings. Harry also knew what to do in such a situation. Keeping a firm hand on each of their shoulders, he would turn

to Hermione, calming her down.

“Alright, alright, let’s resolve this peacefully, shall we? Hermione, I’m sure Ron said some horrible things…”

At which point Ron would protest, “Hey!”

“…. but you need to let go. Getting you riled up is exactly what most people want when they argue with you but you need to ignore them…”

Another “Hey!” from Ron.

“… and not fall into their trap. Only a fool would do that and you, Hermione Granger, are definitely not a fool.”

Hermione would’ve calmed down by now, a slight smile on her lips. She would pat his arm, shrugging it away gently and then either go to her dormitory or finish some homework in the library. Ah, flattery.

Then Harry would turn to Ron, thump his back, and say, “Fancy a fly? Got some new moves we should practice.” He would reluctantly agree, still sporting a sour expression. Harry wouldn’t worry though. By the end of their practice he would be beaming, claiming that everything seemed brighter, which was weird considering that it was near dinnertime they were finished. Soon, the dinner bell would go and Ron would stomp heartily down the stairs in a hurry to satisfy his grand appetite.

At the Gryffindor table everyone would be chattering away, and Ron would start telling Hermione about their mini Quidditch practice. Hermione would look surprised at being addressed to by him and allow a tentative smile to grace her features. Eyes filled with hope, she would turn to Ron and say in a doubtful voice, “So I take it we’re good?”

Ron would nod, mouth full with whatever was piled into his plate, and reach out too pat Hermione awkwardly on her shoulder. “We’re always good, ‘Mione, a fight every

now and then is good for health.”

Hermione’s smile would widen then, (if she was annoyed at the nickname she wouldn’t show it) instead choosing to reply, “Getting crumbs from another person mouth in your food, however, is not. Please refrain from talking with your mouth full, Ronald.” But her word would yield no results because her tone would be far from repulsed.

At that, Ron would smile, regaling her with new plans for the upcoming match.

And Harry, you ask? Well, Harry would breathe an enormous sigh of relief and look at his handiwork with satisfaction. Honestly, what would the world do without him?

That is a question we should all ponder on for a while. The results will no doubt send us into deep depression and render us all hermits, shying away from the cruelties of life.

Because, indeed, what would the world do without Harry Potter?