He looked down at the essay he was supposed to be working on, reading the words he had written earlier. He read over it again and again, each time second-guessing himself, until he finally felt like flinging the parchment away. But no, Hermione would be furious at his obvious lack of respect for Homework. Ron sighed heavily, earning a concerned look from Harry and no response whatsoever from Hermione.
On the parchment, in his untidy scrawl, it read:
Possible side-effects of Peroxide Potion and how to counter them
The peroxide potion is used to change one’s appearance, mostly of the hair. Both muggles and wizards use this potion, although to muggles it is known as dye or bleach. One example of a wizard who uses this is Draco Malfoy, as is observed by his unnatural and stupid white-blonde hair that all the girls swoon over. Blonde little ferret.
One side-effect of Peroxide Potion is that it hurts like Merlin’s beard on fire. My Uncle Stuart dyed his hair once and he swore the house down. Mom was really mad at him. The twins were delighted.
Another side-effect is
Dear Hermione,
I know we fight all the time, but that’s the only way I know to get you to notice me. I’m sorry about everything I’ve ever said to hurt you, just know that I never meant it and every tear you wept I felt as well, in my bleeding heart. Merlin, that is so corny. Sorry. Even if you never talk to me ever again, not only will I completely flunk my NEWTS, but I will have lost one of my best friends, and more than that, the only girl I have ever loved.
I love you, Hermione Granger, and please keep barging in on my business, that is, if you want to.
All my love,
Ronald Weasley
P.s. This isn’t really a bribe, but if you do talk to me again, I’ll give you material to blackmail Malfoy.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have added that last part. Ron rubbed his eyes tiredly. The words were starting to make his head spin. Or maybe it was his handwriting. Either way, he was on the verge of tearing it up right then.
No! screamed the voice in his head. Look at her eyes! Look at them! What would you give to see them looking back at you with all those wonderful things that you talked about?
You’ll embarrass her and then she’ll never talk to you again, said another voice. Someday he would get around to naming them all. Is that what you want? Everything is fine and dandy now; you’re her best friend, face it, that’s as close to her as you’ll ever get.
What have you got to lose, Ron? What? retorted the other voice.
My sanity, he thought dryly. That shut them up.
“Done! Finally!” Harry shoved his essay away from him, grinning madly as he leaned back and relaxed in his seat. “What about you, Ron?”
“Yeah, me too.” Ron said quickly, doing likewise as Harry.
They both glanced expectantly at Hermione, Ron with a tad more trepidation than Harry. This was the part where she took their essays and mulled over them, marking out parts which they had to change, filling in others to ensure they would pass.
Hermione looked up briefly (not at Ron though) and, with a “Give it here, Harry.” she was off, scribbling furiously. Ron liked watching her while she worked. She was so intent on it, like it was the single most important essay in the history of the world, like it could change history, even. Did she always throw herself so completely into everything she did?
“Not bad, Harry. You just need to add a bit more detail…”
Ron watched her lips moving without hearing her words. What would it be like to kiss them, he wondered—hang on, he was thinking waaay too far ahead. It was almost as freaky as Malfoy and his bathing suit.
Ron couldn’t help but chuckle at the image. Hermione glared at him.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t chortle in the library.” He had no idea where that came from. Sweet Merlin, chortle? Harry couldn’t resist snorting at Ron’s word choice. Ron might have imagined it, but he thought he saw Hermione’s lips twitch, just the tiniest amount.
“Oh, Ron.” And before he could do anything, before he could even blink, the piece of parchment was in Hermione’s hands and her eyes were darting across the page.
Oh, bloody hell.
Ron found himself in a state of quiet panic. Would she slap him? She might. She had slapped Malfoy. This was all Malfoy’s fault! Stupid, stupid, stupid ferret who made him chortle. Chortle!
And then just as suddenly as it started, it was all over.
Hermione, eyes wide, finished scribbling on his essay and passed it back to him with naught a word to say. Ron stared at her, but her face was unreadable. He frowned, and then felt his ears heat up. He was done for. He knew it.
His eyes traveled, almost agonizingly slowly, down the page. The anticipation, the suspense, was too much. He would explode with the sheer agony of having to live with what she wrote. I’m terribly sorry, Ron, she would write. This might shock you, but I am secretly in love with Draco Malfoy and I do not appreciate you blackmailing him. Speaking of that, I have material to blackmail you too. MUHAHAHAHA. Okay, so maybe that was unlikely.
What she actually wrote was,
Dear Ron (my, are we formal today),
Outstanding essay. Let’s meet outside the library to discuss it further.
Love,
Hermione Granger
P.s. Good try, Ron. It worked.
Ron whipped his head up so fast he thought his neck might crack. Merlin, she was smiling at him. Such a huge sense of relief flooded him that he thought he might faint. But that would be dumb (and anti-climatic), so he didn’t.
“Harry, I left something in the dorm. I’m going to get it now. Right now.” Hermione stood up.
“Me too,” Ron said quickly. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
“Uh, okay.” Harry shrugged, still pouring over his essay.
For the boy-who-lived, he sure could be oblivious sometimes.
Not that Ron was complaining.
Fin.