The Sugar Quill
Author: Mingo Cortez  Story: The First Known Sighting of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack  Chapter: Default
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“You know, Ronald, Hermione Granger likes you

Author’s Note: Many thanks to all those who lent a hand (or a pair of eyes) to help with this story—I greatly appreciate it! Special thanks to Night Zephyr for her wonderful beta-reading job.  Hope you all enjoy reading the story as much as I did writing it! Oh, and of course, standard disclaimer applies.  Thanks!   

 

The First Known Sighting of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack

-by: Mingo Cortez-

 

 

“You know, Ronald, Hermione Granger fancies you.”

 

Ron spun around so fast that he stumbled.  He steadied himself on one of the tall library bookshelves. 

 

Luna Lovegood was sitting in a small window seat, doodling a wild drawing on a large sketch pad that she had propped against her knee.  She was wearing a shocking orange beret with matching carrots dangling from her ears.

 

“Did you say something?” Ron asked.  Luna wasn’t even looking at him now.  Maybe he was hearing things.

 

“I said: You know, Ronald, Hermione Granger fancies you.”

 

Ron stared at her, dumbfounded.  “What?”

 

“I said: You know, Ron—”

 

“I heard you!” he quickly cut her off.

 

Luna finally looked up at him with her large blue eyes.  “No need to shout,” she said, calmly blinking at him.

 

Ron felt his ears go red.  He cast a glance at Madam Pince, who hadn’t seemed to catch his outburst.  Then he stole a look at the table where Hermione was sitting.  Her face was hidden behind a book; only a silhouette of her bushy hair was visible.

 

Luna was still staring at him, apparently waiting for his response. 

 

“That—that’s rubbish,” Ron sputtered.  He’d never heard anything so crazy in his whole life.  Hermione didn’t fancy him, she fancied… Krum.  Ron scowled. 

 

Luna blinked at him again, then shrugged and resumed sketching. 

 

Ron turned, feeling nettled, and proceeded to the section on Transfiguration, despite the fact that he could no longer remember the title of the book he was after.  Loony Luna. He snorted.  What kind of a thing was that to say? Hermione Granger fancies you.  He peeked through the row of books.  Hermione was visible now, scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment.  She paused, chewing her lip in thought, and shook her hair back over her shoulder before resuming her vigorous note-taking. Ron smirked a little.  He loved the way her hair seemed to creep up on her, like it had a mind of its own…trying to disrupt her studying. Ron liked to do that sometimes—purposely interrupt her while she was working, just to see her reaction.  She’d huff and roll her eyes with an Honestly, Ron, and he’d just grin to himself, somehow satisfied. 

 

Ron heaved a sigh.  Luna’s voice repeated annoyingly in his head.  No one had ever said anything so… so bizarre to him.  True, perhaps he had made one or two shows of it himself over the past two years.  That whole miserable Yule Ball incident… Hermione furious and shouting at him.  Fraternizing with the enemy. Ron winced.  That had certainly been a disaster.

 

And those novels she was still writing to Krum! If Hermione had really fancied him, wouldn’t she stop carrying on with Vicky?

 

No, Ron was certain.  Hermione couldn’t like him that way.  It was just impossible.  Completely and totally impossible.  This had to be Luna’s craziest story yet.  If Hermione fancies me I’d better see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack right around the corner.  Ron tried to grin at his own joke.  But his grin fell short.  Instead, Hermione Granger fancies you, echoed in his mind. 

 

He let out another irritated sigh.  This was never going to do.  Forgetting his Transfiguration book, he marched back over to Luna. 

 

“What do you mean, Hermione Granger fancies me?” he hissed.

 

Luna didn’t seem bothered by his tone.  In fact, she didn’t even look up at him.  Instead she hummed a few bars of something sounded oddly familiar.  “She just does, that’s all,” she replied, in a singsong voice.

 

“But—but she doesn’t.”  Ron felt the blush creeping back. 

 

“Of course she does, Ronald,” Luna leaned against the window, admiring her art work.

 

“But—why?” Ron crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing,” she quoted, vaguely.

 

Ron made a noise of exasperation and then cleared his throat, attempting to keep his voice even.  “I mean,” he said slowly, “why do you think that she fancies me?”  He felt the blush spreading down his neck.

 

“It’s just obvious,” Luna shrugged, fixing Ron with her stare again.

 

Ron shook his head, as if to point out that it wasn’t at all obvious to him. She doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking about, he decided.  She’s just making up one of her mad stories. As if Hermione could fancy me.

 

“Right,” Ron nodded, and turned away. 

 

“Plus she kissed you before your Quidditch match.”

 

He paused. “Huh?”

 

“Before your first match against Slytherin.”

 

Hermione had kissed him.  On the cheek.  Ron had almost forgotten—he had been so nervous… and then the game.  He’d wanted to crawl into a hole after that game.  The memory of that kiss had seemed to fade away with his hopes of being a good Quidditch player.  Of course, Ron told himself, that was before we won the Cup.  But then… Hermione had kissed Harry before, too, at Kings Cross.  True, she wasn’t going to see Harry for the summer… and that business with You-Know-Who and the Tournament… but still…

 

Ron turned back to Luna.  “So? She kissed Harry at Kings Cross.”

 

“She closed her eyes when she kissed you,” she said simply. 

 

Ron furrowed his brow.  “What does that mean?”

 

“It means,” Luna replied, as if stating something plainly apparent, “that she fancies you.”  She bent back over her drawing. 

 

Ron stared at her blankly.  That didn’t make any sense.  Girls close their eyes when they kiss people they fancy, but keep them open when they don’t? Mental.  But girls were mental in a way.  Ron thought of Harry and all the hassle he’d gone through with Cho.  And Ginny, going with Dean. Mad.  And Hermione—she was the worst of them all, with those lumpy hats she sat up half the night making, and the way she studied on a Saturday afternoon, and how she somehow knew the answer to every question asked in class.

 

Maybe it was possible that Luna was right? She was a girl, after all.  Maybe she knew those sorts of things. Maybe Hermione really did fancy him. Ron couldn’t help grinning slightly.  He took a big breath of air, puffing up his chest, and rocking on the balls of his feet. Hermione Granger fancies you.  

 

“What are you drawing?” he asked, still grinning. 

 

“Oh,” Luna glanced back up at him, as if she had forgotten he was there.  “A Crumple-Horned Snorkack.  Would you like to see?”

 

Ron coughed, almost choking.  “What?”

 

“A Crumple-Horned Snorkack.  Would you like to see?”

 

If Hermione fancies me I’d better see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack right around the corner.

 

Ron peeked over at Hermione.  She was scanning through the index of a book, tracing her finger quickly down the page.  Suddenly, she paused and looked up. Their eyes met.  Ron felt a bit of a shock go through him.  He stared at her, unabashedly, from across the library.  Hermione bit her lip, her cheeks turning slightly pink.  She dropped her eyes quickly back to the book, her hair tumbling back over her shoulder as she shifted. 

 

Ron grinned, turning back to Luna.  “Yeah, sure,” he replied.  “I think I’d like to have a look.” 

 

 -The End- 

//
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