Good Luck

 

By Morag Camshron

 

Summary: “Good luck, Ron,” said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek.

— OotP, Chapter Nineteen: The Lion and the Serpent

(Alternate Point of View)

 

Disclaimer: None of these characters, settings, etc. belong to me — they belong to Ms Joanne K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. (et cetera) — I’m only playing with them for my own amusement, and am making no profit whatsoever from this other than a few hours of fun. No copyright infringement is intended. Direct quotes are taken from OotP, Chapter Nineteen: The Lion and the Serpent.

 

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed: Muggle Molly, Ginny, toast, Artemisa, reader2, and Author by Night — it means more to me than you can imagine.

In case any of you are wondering why this story was removed from the SQ and then re-posted, the answer is that it originally got posted by accident as it hadn’t been beta-read yet. So now I present to you the new (and hopefully better) version of Good Luck. My apologies go out to those who posted reviews for this fic (toast, Artemisia, reader2, and Author by Night) only to have them deleted along with the story — I still have those reviews, and they do still mean a lot to me. Thank you for your understanding.

 

Thanks are also in order to my beta, Helen, for her patience and understanding, especially when it comes to e-mail problems.

This has to be one of my favourite scenes from OotP — enjoy (and review, please)!

 

 

***

 

Sometimes I don’t know why I like — oh, fine — love Ron Weasley so much. He’s rude; he’s infuriating. He’s as thick as a concussed troll about some things and is a real prat. He gets jealous too easily and is incredibly lazy. And he can say really hurtful things.

 

But then he’ll do something incredibly sweet — like bringing me some food when I’m studying, or belching up slugs for me — and I’ll fall in love with him all over again. He has a wonderful heart and he really cares about people. He has a great sense of humour, and he can always cheer me up better than anyone else. He is honest and loyal to a fault. And he can say the nicest things.

 

So, whether this is reasonable or not — I love him.

 

***

 

Hermione shivered in the early morning chill of the corridor, despite her warm scarf and gloves. The first Gryffindor Quidditch match of the season was today and she wanted to see Ron — and Harry, she added mentally — before the game. Although Wood, Gryffindor’s former captain and Keeper (not to mention Quidditch fanatic) had graduated last year, it seemed that Angelina was picking up right where he had left off — and that included leaving early for the pitch, as so to get in some last minute practising.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed a Slytherin approaching. It soon became apparent that the Slytherin was a girl. A pug-faced girl.

 

“Well look who it is,” said Pansy Parkinson viciously. “The Mudblood.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes (rude an insult as it was, couldn’t they think of anything more original?) and continued walking. Pansy walked a bit more quickly, keeping pace with her.

 

“But where is the Weasel? Oh, that’s right, he’s probably hiding in his room.”

Leave her, she’s not worth it, Hermione told herself firmly. You know she’s just trying to get a rise out of you…

 “Then again, that’d be crediting him with intelligence…”

 

Hermione’s eyes flashed dangerously, but she continued to ignore Pansy.

 “See this, Granger?” Pansy said in a spiteful tone.

Don’t look, don’t give her the satisfaction…

“We figured it’d be nice to give Weasley a little welcoming gift, you know, to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help herself — she looked. Pansy was wearing a very self-satisfied smirk along with a silver, crown-shaped badge. And it seemed to say… it couldn’t… but it did…

For emblazoned across the badge’s silvery surface were the words ‘Weasley Is Our King’.

 

Although she didn’t know what it meant, she felt her stomach sink.

Not today! Ron is having enough problems with his confidence already…

 

Hermione stared down the Slytherin girl.

“I’d think carefully before trying anything… stupid,” she commented to Pansy Parkinson, keeping her voice even and deliberate. “And if anything happens, remember that I’ll know who did it.”

Pansy sneered back, “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Well, you’ll see what we do at the match,” and flounced off.

 

“Ooh, those Slytherins! Don’t they have anything better to do?” Hermione muttered angrily as she stalked down the corridor. “I don’t know what those badges mean, but I’d bet my last knut that it isn’t anything good.”

 

She was still fuming when she encountered Ginny, who also on her way to the Great Hall.

“They’re up to something,” she told Ginny. “The Slytherins, that is.”

“Aren’t they always?”

“No, I mean something in particular… I think they’re trying to intimidate Ron even more than they’ve done already. I ran into Pansy Parkinson in the hall and she was bragging about something — I’m not sure what — that the Slytherins are going to do at the match, and you can bet that it’ll be really nasty. Have you seen those badges that they’re wearing?”

 

“No,” Ginny said. “What about them?”

“The badges are in the shapes of crowns, and say ‘Weasley Is Our King’,” Hermione answered flatly, “So unless Slytherin are planning on rooting for Gryffindor…”

“And they are playing against us…” Ginny continued.

“It’s very unlikely,” Hermione concluded grimly.

 

A babble of voices reached Hermione’s ears as they entered the Great Hall.

“Do you see them?” she asked Ginny. The younger girl shook her head, red hair flipping over a shoulder, where it clashed horribly with the red-and-gold rosette that she was sporting. Gryffindor colours really didn’t go well with the Weasley hair, Hermione reflected.

 

“Wait… there they are!” Ginny said, pointing to a spot at the Gryffindor table.

Sliding down onto the bench beside Harry and Ron, Hermione caught the words, “ — and the game’s in the bag, isn’t it?”

 

Ron looked very pale and was staring into his empty cereal bowl despairingly. He seemed to be in rather a wretched state.

 

“How’re you feeling?” Ginny asked Ron.

“He’s just nervous,” said Harry firmly, as though trying to convince himself. Hermione felt that she ought to add something as well.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” she said briskly, “I never feel you perform as well in exams if you’re not a bit nervous.”

 

Ron didn’t look at all assured, although Hermione wasn’t sure he’d even heard her.

 

In the meantime, Luna Lovegood seemed to have wandered over from the Ravenclaw table. And what on earth was she wearing on her head? It was ridiculous, Hermione decided. Why anyone would wear such a thing was beyond her. Perched precariously upon the Ravenclaw’s head was a life-sized lion’s head shaped hat. Hermione jumped as the hat gave a very loud, realistic roar.

 

She wasn’t the only one to do so: Euan Abercrombie leapt almost an inch in the air, Natalie McDonald was staring at the Ravenclaw girl in shock, and Neville had almost fallen off the bench in surprise.

 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” said Luna in a manner reminiscent of Hagrid talking about Norbert or Fluffy. Hermione stifled a grin at the thought of Hagrid gazing adoringly at his ickle baby Norbert.

 

“… you know, but there wasn’t time,” she was saying. “Anyway… good luck, Ronald!”

No one calls Ron that except his mother, thought Hermione irritably as Luna drifted off dreamily. And why didn’t she wish Harry good luck too? It was rather rude to just ignore him like that.

 

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia had joined them now too.

“We’ll be there in a bit. Ron’s just got to have some breakfast,” Harry was telling Angelina. Hermione smiled as she remembered how she and Ron had told Harry the same thing before his first Quidditch match; how the roles had been reversed!

 

Ron kept playing with his silverware, idly pushing his bowl around. It quickly became apparent to them that he wasn’t going to be eating anytime soon, so, upon Harry’s suggestion, the boys stood to leave. Standing up as well, Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him to the side.

 

“Don’t let Ron see what’s on those Slytherins’ badges,” she muttered frantically. Harry looked at her in confusion, but Hermione only shook her head, as Ron had just wandered over to them. He presented a truly piteous sight. Hermione felt a tug at her heartstrings as he stared despondently into space like a lost child.

 

Did she dare?

 

Before she could lose her nerve, Hermione walked over to Ron, went up on tiptoes and quickly kissed him on the cheek.

“Good luck, Ron,” she said. As an afterthought (not wanting to be like Luna, after all) she added, “And you, Harry —”

 

And, blushing furiously, Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall, Ginny close at her heels.

 

Ginny was wearing a smirk along with her red-and-gold rosette.

“Well?” she said.

“Well what?” asked Hermione, trying to cover her embarrassment.

 

“The kiss?” Ginny prompted.

“I’m allowed to wish one of my best friends good luck, aren’t I?” she said irritably.

“Mmm hmm,” was her friend’s reply.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and hastily said, “C’mon, Ginny, we want to get good seats!”

With a knowing grin, Ginny nodded and led the way to the pitch.

 

As Hermione followed, her hand found its way involuntarily to her lips. She could still feel Ron’s cheek against them: warm, soft, but a bit bristly. When had Ron started growing facial hair? He must not have shaved this morning. He had looked a bit surprised — well she had felt slightly surprised at her own daring, too — but was that a good or a bad thing? She didn’t have much experience in these matters.

 

Only time will tell, I suppose…

 

***

 

That night, as she prepared for bed in the bathroom, Hermione was ambushed by her roommates. Lavender stepped in front of the door to the bathroom and Parvati blocked the dormitory’s exit.

 

“Spill,” demanded Lavender.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this tonight,” Hermione snapped. “Three of our Quidditch team’s players have been banned for life by that Umbridge cow, who is also inspecting our professors, and I’ve got an Arithmancy test in the morning, so I need my sleep.”

 

“Uh-uh,” said Parvati, arms crossed against her chest. “Not till you tell us what’s going on with you and Ron.”

 

“What do you mean, what’s going on with me and Ron?” Hermione queried impatiently, trying to sound as though she were confused; her flushed face, however, suggested that she understood what they were getting at all too well.

“We’re both really mad at Umbridge right now and —”

 

“No, silly,” sighed Lavender exasperatedly. “I mean, what’s going on with you and Ron.”

Hermione became even more flustered and desperate to end the conversation.

“That’s what you just said — now please move out of my way!”

 

“She’s hopeless,” Parvati pronounced to Lavender. “What we’re trying to ask is when you and Ron started going out.”

“We aren’t going out!” Hermione protested, cheeks burning.

 

“If you say so…” was the disbelieving reply.

“I do say so. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

 

Hermione pushed past Lavender, and hurried over to her four-poster, climbed into it, and shut the drapes with a snap.

“Well even if they aren’t going out, it’s obvious that they want to,” Parvati commented smugly.

 

“Goodnight,” Hermione said firmly and with a flick of her wand put out the lamp on her bedside table. Yawning widely, she pulled her blanket up, and turned over on her side.

 

Hagrid was back — but he was hurt, and hadn’t had any success with the giants; those Slytherins had ruined Ron’s self-esteem ever further with that horrid song; Death Eaters were on the move again, Harry and the twins were banned from playing Quidditch, and Umbridge was inspecting the professors… surely, surely things couldn’t get much worse. She needed to go to sleep: there were lessons to plan for Hagrid and a test to study for in the morning.

 

But she couldn’t. She was tense and anxious — not a good combination. So, as she often did when she couldn’t sleep, Hermione mentally listed simple Rune translations. As she eventually nodded off, Hermione saw herself kissing Ron again — an experience, she admitted sleepily, that she wouldn’t mind repeating.

 

And that night, Hermione Granger had very pleasant dreams indeed…

 

***