A/N: This is set in the trio's fifth year. You'd think Ron would have learned something from the Yule Ball, but he's apparently a bit dim in these matters.
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Hermione huffed in annoyance. "Ron, as I was saying, the essay is due tomorrow and you haven't even started. Ron, are you listening to me? Ron!" She slammed her book down on the desk. Ron jumped.
"Huh? Oh, sorry." Then, leaning over to Harry, "Merlin, Harry, did you see what that girl was wearing?"
"Yeah," Harry whispered, his eyes slightly glazed as the tall curvy blonde walked by them. Hermione shot him a murderous look. Harry swallowed nervously and pretended to read again.
"Ronald Weasley, if you expect me to help you, you'd better attention to your work and not some skimpily clad Hufflepuff."
"Oh, Mione, lighten up. You're just sore because you aren't the type. Ow! What was that for, Harry? It is true!" Harry moved about two feet away from Ron. Hermione's temper was legendary, and he had no desire to get caught in the crossfire.
Hermione jumped to her feet, snatching up her books. "Just because I don't prance around like a common tart, Ronald, doesn't mean I don't know how to get a boy's attention!"
Harry looked at his friend, "Bad form, mate. Bad form. I'd watch your back for the next few days."
The next day...
Harry was concentrating on his next move. Ron always beat him at Wizard chess, but this time, he thought he stood a chance. He heard a low whistle from behind him where George Weasley was sitting. He turned his head, in the direction that George was staring.
The first thing he saw was a pair of legs. Shapely, bare legs. He looked up slowly, enjoying the view on the way up. The rest of the curves attached to those legs were quite pleasing as well. A short, slim black skirt gave way to an enticing peek at a toned stomach, and then a fitted red blouse that was just low cut enough to be provocative without being scandalous. When his eyes reached the girl's face, Harry jumped back, truly embarrassed to be caught ogling his best friend. But his embarrassment was short lived, because while he certainly got an eyeful, Ron's chin was about to connect with the chessboard. Harry tried not to laugh at Ron's ridiculous expression, which was the distraction he needed to get his own teenage mind under control.
"You're all dressed up," Harry managed to say, keeping the squeak out of his voice, but just barely.
"Indeed." Hermione's eyes were staring straight at Ron, who had not regained his composure nearly as well as Harry. She strutted right past the two boys, and then she slowly leaned over to whisper in George's ear. He shifted his weight and grinned devilishly; then he proceeded to pull her into his lap and she kissed him soundly.
Now it was Harry's turn to whistle. George was clearly not wasting this opportunity. After a moment or two, Harry started to feel really awkard. He called Ron's attention away from the spectacle and back to the game. A move or two later, Hermione and George broke apart, but George held her firmly on his lap. The two continued to watch the game.
Harry focused back on the board, and suddenly he was filled with glee.
Hermione chuckled, then she stood up, adjusted her skirt and blouse and walked back past the boys again, slowly and deliberately. "Not the type, eh?" She continued out of the common room and off to the library.
Harry moved his Queen. "Check mate." Ron just looked up at his friend, gobsmacked.