Author’s Note: I have to say, this is a very random piece
of writing. The way you hear everything is weird too, and I got myself
really confused by it. If you see any mistakes, blame Esile, my identical
twin. It’s R/H, and though not necessarily how I would have thought
they’d EVENTUALLY get together (Ron has to realize it first, that overly
attractive idiot), I couldn’t think of a better plot. So there.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the excessive
habit of using Ron language.
* * *
And now, to top it all off, she was mad at him.
It wasn’t his fault, after all, that he was naturally curious
about things. How could he have known she’d throw a temper tantrum?
It wasn’t as if he was TRYING to get her cross at him; that came often
enough anyway. All he’d done was ask her a question.
No, owl post came first. They’d all been eating breakfast,
porridge and milk, and he and Harry were drinking apple juice because
the milk smelled funny. Hermione had already poured herself some and
she didn’t want to waste, and they were all laughing at the look on
her face as she drank it. Then the owls had come in, and a big darkish
one came swooping to her. Ruddy owl. Then Hermione had opened the letter
and she got this look, this deflated look. Ruddy idiot he was!
He should have seen it before being such a stupid git!
He had noticed the same heavy handwriting on the envelope
was identical to the small piece of parchment where a name was written…
bloody idiot, he was, anyway… and he’d asked, “Who’s that from, Vicky?”
Not that he really cared. Why’d he care? The git was her ruddy boyfriend
anyway! Why’d he care? Stupid, stupid, stupid git…stupid Hermione, blowing
up like that…
She’d drawn herself up and pulled him outside, Harry watching
curiously from his bowl of half-finished porridge. Hermione had dragged
him out into a hallway before saying in a low, Professor-McGonagall-telling-you-you’re-in-deep-trouble
“Ron, shut up about Viktor. NOW. I’ve had ENOUGH
throughout this ENTIRE SUMMER! You make me so MAD!” and she’d banged
her fists on the wall in frustration. He’d been a total git, standing
there, almost scared but not even realizing…ruddy, ruddy prat, he was…underestimating
Hermione and her moods was a BAD, BAD move.
“What’s the letter say?” he’d asked, narrowing his eyes.
Hermione just turned back to him and started screaming.
“THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD ENOUGH! WHY DO YOU CARE, RON? WHY? BECAUSE
I’M ABOUT SICK OF THIS WHOLE THING! JUST…GO!” and she’d stormed off.
Ruddy, stupid prat, he was…idiot, idiot, idiot!
So here he was, on a warm Sunday morning, Hermione hated
him, he hated bloody Viktor, and he had a three-foot potions essay to
finish before tomorrow’s class. Stupid git, Snape was.
Should he run after her? Too late now, he was already going.
Where’d she go? The library? Not like he could call her name in there,
stupid Madam Pince would strangle him. He’d have to check at each table.
How many tables could there be, anyway? Stupid, stupid, stupid… maybe
the common room? He was even more of a git to not think to go there
Naturally, why would she be in the common room? Dumb idea,
that…maybe her dormitory? Yeah, she’d obviously be there…or not. Stupid
Hermione. Stupid him. Stupid Krum. Now where could she be? Outside?
Of course she’d be outside! Enjoying the air, no doubt! And when he
got outside she’d lecture him and then everything would be all right,
just like always.
“Hermione? Hermione? Where are you?”
Oh drat. Ruddy idiot he was, anyway. She was crying.
“Hey, Hermione, I’m sorry…”
“You very well should be.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid…
Still very mad…so why was he sitting next to her? Ruddy,
ruddy idiot, he was… ooh, the ground’s cold…
“Too bad.” WHAT was he SAYING? Did he want another fit? It
couldn’t be good for Hermione’s health, take away that rosy flush in
her cheeks, and make her look less pretty… WAIT A MOMENT. He was obviously
sleep-deprived. Hermione was Krum’s girlfriend, and he could
admire Hermione’s rosy cheeks… not that they were rosy or pretty or
anything. Why was he BLUSHING? Stupid prat he was, anyway…
She was going to start lecturing…
“I’m sorry.” WHAT?
“Er…I’m sorry too.” Why was she apologizing to him?
“It’s just…I got a letter from Viktor.”
He would not smirk. He would not.
“Yeah, and he responded to my last letter…where I said I
wanted to break up with him. And it’s just a bit much to take and all,
Why was she whispering? What was so important that – SHE
DUMPED BLOODY VICKY! FINALLY! GUY’S ONLY FOUR YEARS OLDER THAN
HER AND SHE FINALLY DUMPS HIM!
“Good.” Real smooth. Mr. Slick, they called him. Ronnie the
“What?” She had really pretty eyes…WHAT WAS HE THINKING?
Snap out of it, Ronniekins!
“Er…I don’t know.”
Why did she look deflated?
What on EARTH was he doing? What was getting INTO him? He
was kissing her. She smelled like cherry. Dear God, he was KISSING HER.
Hermione. HERMIONE. HE WAS KISSING HERMIONE. And it was nice. There
was a weird sort of electricity, but he didn’t know whether it was normal
or not. WEIRD.
Maybe he wasn’t a stupid prat after all.