Unexpected Love
By SwedishFish22
Chapter One: Girlfriends
And that is the proper way to cure toenail fungus on a hippogriff without your head becoming impaled on the patient's claws.
Hermione sighed contentedly as she shut the thick book resting on her lap. There really is nothing better than sitting in the common room on a Friday evening and reading a nice, long book, she thought, gazing around the comfortable space. She pretended that she didn't like what she saw. There were couples on every chair, couch, and recliner, either kissing or simply cuddling. Hermione forced herself to make a face.
Ron come thundering down the stairs, a tail protruding from his pants and hives popping out all over his face. He howled in pain, "Hermione, make it stop! Make it stoooop!"
Hermione smiled. She set aside 1,000,001 Safe Cures to Hippogriff Ailments, and pretended to ponder.
"Well, I'm not sure, Ron. I've never seen this hex before-"a lie "-but perhaps I can think of something. Now, where is that hex book?" She slowly began to rummage through the pile of literature building up around the armchair in which she sat. "I was just reading it-oh, yes! I leant it to Lavender! So sorry, Ron, but I don't have the right material to cure you."
Ron glared at his friend, seeing right through her terrible lying. He began to advance towards her, hives and all. "If you don't use your bloody wand to get rid of my bloody tail and these bloody hives before I count to ten, I'm going to rip your bloody head off. Got it?"
At that exact moment, a mass of legs and arms tumbled through the portrait hole, accompanied by sucking and smacking noises. Hermione looked away in disgust, but Ron forgot about his hives and eagerly leaned forward. Seventh years, she thought, before quickly correcting herself. Male seventh years.
The boy of the heap disentangled himself from the leggy blonde and turned towards Ron and Hermione.
"Hey, Ron. How's it going, Hermione?" Hermione sat there with her mouth open. Performing in the sort of disgraceful act Hermione had always disapproved of was one of her best friends.
"Harry, mate! Who's your . . . er . . . friend?" Ron nearly shouted. Harry grinned sheepishly and helped his "friend" to her feet.
"Ron, Hermione . . . common room-"he winked at the people staring "-this is my good friend, Frida Johansen." Frida shyly wiggled a couple of her slender, tan fingers at the surrounding people. "She's new here at Hogwarts. She's completely Swedish and, up until recently, had been attending Beauxbaton. But, fortunately for us, her parents decided that she should come and live with us."
Frida took over. "Yes, and I'm very happy to be here." Her voice was thickly layered with a Scandinavian accent. "You must excuse my English. I'm only just learning. I really only fluently speak French and Swedish."
Seamus, looking up from the chess game he was beating Neville at, slowly began to clap in approval of this newcomer. Frida blushed, and murmured, "Um, how do you say it, um . . . oh, yes! Fank you."
A couple of first years giggled at her blunder, but one withering look from Harry and menacing look from Ron shut them up completely.
"Hello! I kind of need to get through here, people! Let me in this instant!" Muffled screeches came from the portrait hole, and Harry quickly grabbed Frida and dragged her out of the way of the painting. A disheveled Sam Liveston, the first American ever to attend Hogwarts, fell out of the hole and swore.
"Godammit. Somebody should get rid of these stupid portrait holes and just get doors, for God's sake!" Sam quickly stood up and brushed imaginary dirt off her butt.
Ron, yet to remember his tail and hives, rapidly slipped his arm around her waist. "Hey, Sam, baby. How's my favorite American doing today?"
Sam closed her eyes and giggled, dropping the angry façade. "Ron, I'm the only American you know." She dreamily reopened her eyes and let out a tiny shriek. By this point, her boyfriend's head had grown to about the size of a large beach ball.
"Holy hell! What happened to your face?" Ron's newly acquired tail decided to choose that moment to slap Sam on her hindquarters. "What happened to your butt? What's wrong with you? Hermione, fix this kid up!"
Hermione glared. "Oh, sure, once you need me, you notice me. I'm not fixing anything of Ron's." She snatched up her wand and mumbled something under her breath. Harry's eyeballs began to bulge unnaturally, and warts began to grow all over his green body. Before long, there was a toad hopping angrily around the common room, and Harry was nowhere to be seen.
"And I'm not fixing anything of his, either!" Hermione pointed her wand at Harry once again, and he quickly hopped behind Frida's legs. Hermione stormed up the dormitory, slamming the door shut behind her. It was at times like these that she wished she was at home with her mum and dad. If she was at home, door slamming would simply discourage her parents rather than spurring gossip and rumors.
Hermione flung herself onto her four poster bed, drawing the curtains shut around her. Good. The dormitory was empty. She reached under her pillow and pulled out her current pleasure book, The Talisman of Paris. The entire thing was written in French, which Hermione only knew a few words to, so she also dragged out her 5,164 page French dictionary.
Silently, Hermione began to read and decipher The Talisman, taking this opportunity to stick one hand into her panties and rub gently, feeling the coarse brown hair shift under her fingers. The only sound in the common room was the occasional sighs of contentment and the turning of pages.