If there was one thing Ronald Weasley was known for, it was his psychological need to eat whatever type of food was in front of him. So when he saw a deluxe package of chocolate cauldrons just lying on the floor of the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor tower, what was he expected to do? Not to mention it was his birthday, he should be entitled to anything he wanted…maybe not everything. He ripped off the wrapper and offered one to Harry, who was searching for Malfoy on the Marauders Map—he'd been so obsessed lately—then tossed the card. It was probably from Lavender. Ron did not feel like reading another sappy message, and so stuffed the cauldron into his mouth unceremoniously.

As he chewed his second cauldron, an odd tingly sensation seemed to spread throughout his entire being, as if he'd swallowed a horde of unrestrained butterflies. Oh well, it was probably because he was just light-headed from not eating real food. Daydreaming about a real breakfast of sausage when he got down to the Great Hall, he crammed yet another cauldron into his mouth.

Ron's mind suddenly went fuzzy. His vision blurred for a fraction of a second and staggered slightly. What the hell? He stopped on the verge of asking Harry, who was still fretting over Malfoy's frequent disappearances and seemed to have noticed nothing else whatsoever of what was happening to his best friend. His befuddled mind was slowly becoming sharper, and not on his usual pictures of random things (Hermione, his new Keeper gloves, food, Hermione, and Luna's lion hat) but of a girl, a really pretty girl. She had long black hair that fell in unruly dark curls. And her skin! Nicest skin he's ever seen in his opinion, except for maybe Hermione's. But who cares about her? Ron wanted to be with this mystery beauty! Just being in her presence made him tingle with excitement. But who was she?

He became distinctly aware of someone trying to get his attention.

"Ron?" asked Harry.

"What?" he said, his mind still on the ravishing mantrap.

"Ready?" asked Harry, who actually looked a bit concerned now. As if he knew Ron wasn't getting it he added, "For breakfast?"

"Oh, er, no, I don't think I'm going. I'm not hungry."

"You just said you were before you started eating those Chocolate Cauldrons. You can't tell me you're not still hungry?"

"Oh, fine, I'll come with you, I suppose, but I'm not eating anything." It occurred to Ron that his voice sounded very different from the way it usually did, but he was too preoccupied with these strange new feelings to care much.

Harry eyed him, now knowing something was fishy, rather than him just thinking something was up.

"Is it because you're excited about Quidditch later?" asked Harry because they both knew that nerves very much affected Ron's eating habits.

"No…." he said dreamily. "It's just-"he cut off not, knowing how to put the words right. Harry just wouldn't understand. He'd say he was going mental. Ron would too, as a matter of fact, if he weren't still fantasizing over how wonderful it would be to have that girl as a girlfriend, to hold her in his arms. "You won't get it," he finally muttered.

"Fair enough," said Harry, as he threw up his hands in mock surrender.

As Harry turned to leave the dormitory, Ron suddenly burst out "Harry, wait!"

"Yes?"

"I can't take it anymore Harry!"

"You can't take what?" asked Harry, and there was alarm in his voice now. Ron was starting to sway slightly again, and he felt as though he were about to be sick.

"It's just- it's just that-I can't stop thinking about her!" he said gruffly.

Harry gaped at him.

"How, does that prevent you from eating breakfast?" asked a bewildered Harry.

"Do you think she knows I exist?" Ron asked earnestly, ignoring Harry's last question.

"Of course she bloody well knows you exist! She's been all over you for the last two months!" said Harry, sensing that all reason in this crazy conversation was gone.

This time it was Ron who looked confused. "What? Who are you talking about?"

"Erm, who are you talking about?"

"Romilda Vane. Of course," said Ron, the name suddenly coming to him as if he had known it the entire time. He liked that name. He suddenly relaxed as his heart lifted at the very thought of her.

There was a moment of silence, and then Harry spoke roughly, "Are you serious? You're kidding, right?"

Well Ron was most certainly NOT kidding! How could Harry stand there—how could he think this was some kind of joke? Harry's comment angered him and he longed to throw something at him.

"Harry!" He was going to make him see sense if he had to pound it into him, "Harry, I'm in love with that girl. I am. I'm in love with her." There. He said it.

"Alright." Said Harry, his expression blank as he continued; "Now you just have to say it again seriously, without your face lighting up like Lumos."

"I love her," Ron repeated, his breath taken from him as he said it. "Haven't you seen her, Harry? She's the most beautiful girl in the world, she is. Better than Veela. Her hair is so shiny…and her eyes? Oh wow, her eyes almost are so big and so brown…It's like they look into your soul…"

Harry was starting to get a bit annoyed. Why wouldn't he just drop it? "Well that's great Ron. I mean that's really amusing. Great joke, but just drop it okay?"

WHAT?! How could he? Ron was not entirely one for rational thinking when it came to situations like these, and he wasn't thinking about what may happen to Harry. He just couldn't get over the fact that Harry thought this just a big laugh. That thought was clear in Ron's mind as he sent his fist flying towards the back of Harry's retreating head. His fist struck gold. Blood pounded in his head. Now he was angry! His hand pulled back, ready to strike again. Ouch. Punching stings.

Harry staggered then whirled around, his hand on his head, and bellowed angrily, "What the hell was that for?"

"How could you?" he snarled. "You've insulted her, Harry! You said it was a joke! It's not!" he yelled indignantly. He felt his face turning purple from rage.

"Okay, fine, you're in love with her! But have you ever actually met Romilda?"

"Not quite. But she obviously likes my incredibly good looks or she wouldn't have sent me the Chocolate Cauldrons!"

"Chocolate Cauldrons?" said Harry, walking over to examine the box and card.

After a minute of stunned silence, Harry let out a short breath and said more to himself than to Ron, "Damn!"

"Is there a problem?" asked Ron innocently.

"Oh no, Ron everything is great. Um, more than great actually, I just thought maybe you wanted you meet Romilda for yourself, to, er, get a first-name basis, know what I mean?" said Harry forming a plan in his head. Damn girls.

"Romilda? You know her? Will you introduce me? I can't wait! Let's go."

Ron paused at a window, staring dreamily at the morning sun as if recalling some sweet memory, and sighed, "Look at the sun, Harry. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Peachy."

"Romilda's beautiful. Like the sun. All bright and stuff."

"Okay….?"Said Harry, the end of his sentence going up as if it were a question. "Oh!" Exclaimed Harry slapping his forehead, "I've just realized," he said pulling Ron to his feet, as he had just sat down to stare at the rays of sunlight slowly creeping across the floor," She'll be in with Professor Slughorn. She takes extra Potions lessons with him, you see."

"Great!" said Ron exuberantly.

The two headed down the corridors, dotted with a few groggy looking people headed down for an early breakfast.

As they neared Slughorn's office, Harry tried to get ahead of Ron, which was clearly proving difficult as he was shoving Harry in an attempt to see Romilda first. He HAD to see Romilda. She was steadily becoming an obsession. Ron was totally okay with that.

"Would you quit that?" asked Harry brusquely, knocking on the office door. A bleary eyed Professor Slughorn answered the door.

"Harry! It's very early... I generally have a bit of a lie-in on Saturday. What is it? And what's wrong with your friend Rodney there?"

"It's Ron sir. And well you see sir, Ron is in desperate love with Romilda Vane. You know her of course."

"Alright. Well Harry m'boy, I'm not sure how this involves me-"

"Sir, he's in love with her. Quite obsessively, actually", said Harry rubbing his right ear," Almost, as if he swallowed a very powerful love potion," he said pointedly to Professor Slughorn, who had comprehension dawning on his large face. As if to prove his point, Ron said impatiently and tried to shove Harry who tried desperately to be an edifice, " Harry, where is she? I thought you said she'd be here!"

"Ron! She's not here yet! But, no listen! She will be here in a minute and when she does, you can't let her catch you looking like…this!" Harry's voice was thick with exasperation.

"Right." He was being completely irrational. Ron felt totally insane when Slughorn's head suddenly morphed into Romilda's beautiful face.

"Please Professor? It's his birthday!" Harry seemed to beg.

"Oh, alright then. Come in, come in." As Slughorn lead the young wizards into his study he said to Harry over his shoulder, "Knowing you, a great potion master, I'd've figured you could whip up an antidote in a jiffy."

"Well, I've never made an antidote for love potions before, and I'd probably end up making him a giant marshmallow or something."

Slughorn chuckled and started mixing the ingredients into a small cauldron. Ron moaned. Harry shoved him onto a cushy loveseat and gave him a pillow to keep him somewhat preoccupied. Oh, Romilda, Ron thought. He wondered what she would think of him when she arrived. Oh, no. What if she didn't like him? That would mean she wouldn't want to be with him. And he knew girls, of course. They went solely on looks alone. If she didn't like him, it would crush him. He'd die. He needed her approval. The terrible thought still worrying him, he turned to Harry and asked, "How do I look?"

"Excellent," said Harry, grinning.

"Excellent," he replied, beaming at him.

Harry moved away to speak to Slughorn, and Ron couldn't stand sitting still. He was immensely anxious about Romilda, so he moved his position from the seat of the loveseat to the top part. There he sat and thought of Romilda. Romilda. Ah, just her name brought chills running down his spine. He wiggled on his perch on top of the couch. He must really be disoriented, because he'd never fallen off the back of a couch before. However, that was exactly what happened. Before he knew it, Ron found himself flattened on the cold stone floor, face squished against the hard surface. Oh, man. He hoped Romilda hadn't seen that. For the first time all day, he was glad she wasn't there. That feeling was only temporary as he bounded to his feet again. Harry gave him a strange look, then sat him back down on the couch.

Slughorn handed him a small wine glass full of clear liquid and said kindly, " Here you go m'boy."

" That's not Pumpkin Juice is it?"

"No, no, it's a tonic of sorts. Help you cool down for when she arrives."

"Brilliant." Ron gulped down the tasteless liquid. There was a moment of silence, and he couldn't understand why Harry and Slughorn were staring at him with concerned and slightly anxious looks, when he was feeling a great surge of euphoria.

His happiness seemed to be sapped of his body, leaving him feeling weird and a bit uncomfortable, his grin long gone as well as the face of Romilda. Her face was no longer appealing to him. Actually he couldn't see why he had felt so fervently about her at all. He looked up at Harry, who was smiling at him.

"Back to your normal self are you?" he said, obviously amused. Ron nodded.

"What you need now is a little picker-upper, I'd say. Make you feeling a bit better after that ordeal," said Slughorn.

"What happened to me?" Ron asked Harry as Slughorn rummaged around in his cupboards.

"You were induced," he said. When Ron looked confused, he added, "Love potion."

"Oh," said Ron feeling humiliated about the way he had acted. "Women these days." Harry laughed.

"We've some Oak Matured Mead for you. That's it," said Slughorn pouring a large amount of Mead for him, Harry and Ron. "Hm, meant to give that to Dumbledore for a little Christmas present. Ah, well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him!" And to that he toasted them saying, "Well a very happy birthday to you Rupert-"

"Er, Ron, Professor."

"—and may the odds be ever in your favor," Slughorn finished. However, Ron wasn't listening, for he had collapsed onto the hearth after his first sip.

Intense agony. That was all he could register as he jerked around uncontrollably. Someone was shouting at someone. His only thought was that he'd rather die at this moment than feel this awful feeling of hopelessness mixed in with pain. Oh, the pain. It was unbearable. He felt foam sliding on his neck, but he didn't care. His eyes rolled back in their sockets. His limbs were starting to seize up and he just wanted it to end, for it to be over…

Someone, forced open his clenched jaw and shoved something into his throat. He gagged, cutting off his oxygen before it slipped down his esophagus into his stomach .He shuddered. The pain was slowly leeching away, until it left him lying on the floor, cold and sweaty, and feeling as though there couldn't possibly be anything as silly as a love potion in this dark world. His muscles still feeling kind of cramped were able to move slightly, but he just felt like lying down and sleeping.

He was vaguely aware of someone talking quiet words to him, more like a mutter of desperation…."Oh, Ron please don't be dead. Don't be dead Ron."

With all the effort he could muster, he pushed himself up on his elbows and said faintly, "These women are becoming as crazy as Luna Lovegood." With that, he let his head drop back down to the floor as he left the scene unconscious.

A/N:

Hello there! I'm Luna. So this is my first fanfic and may I just say, thanks to Hatsu Yukiya for Beta-ing my story. Did you like it? If so, I believe there is a nifty little review box at the bottom of your screen there so you can inform me of your candid opinion…

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Just going to say that right here and now.