The Sugar Quill
Author: Elise  Story: Stupid Prat He Was, Anyway  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

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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.

 

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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 voice:

“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 first…

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?”

“Nowhere!”

Oh drat. Ruddy idiot he was, anyway. She was crying.

“Hey, Hermione, I’m sorry…”

“You very well should be.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

“Forgive me?”

“No.”

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…

“Ron?”

“Yeah?”

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.

“Oh?”

“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, you know…”

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 Slick.

“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?

“Oh.”

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

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.

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