Author's note: I found this adorable plot bunny running around on another ship. So the story is not original, and I tip my hat to the originator of the plot. But I thought it would be lovely in R/H. Please enjoy and let me know of any improvements that can be made.
It was a crisp, clear October morning, snap-cold and brilliantly sunny. Perfect quidditch weather. Ron was darting between goal posts, blocking unseen quaffles, humming a quiet strain of "Weasley is our King." If Draco Malfoy and his entourage were sitting on the sidelines imitating him, well, it wouldn't be any worse than the upcoming game.
Ron took a deep breath, sighed and landed. He was as ready as he was going to get. He threw his broom casually over his shoulder and walked by the Slytherin gang without looking over. Draco nodded to his friends and stood up to follow him.
"Ready for the game, Weasel?"
"I'm always ready to squash your arse at Quidditch, Malfoy."
"You wish."
"Haven't actually beat Harry to the Snitch yet, have you?"
Draco sneered but said nothing.
Ron stopped at the door to the Gryffindor changing room. "Why are you following me, Draco?"
"Oh, no reason." Draco smirked. "How's your mudblood girlfriend, Weasel?"
Ron sighed. "I don't have a girlfriend."
"What? Even the mudblood won't have you? Just as well. You wouldn't be able to scrape up the galleons, anyway." Draco grinned maddeningly.
"What the hell are you on about?"
"You are Pureblood, though, aren't you, Weasel? It's kind of hard to tell from looking atyou. Your mother looks dumb enough to-"
Ron's face turned red. "What's the hell is your point, Malfoy?"
Draco shrugged, then started to walk away. "If you don't know, I'm not going to be the one to tell you. I'm not the type to raise false hope in my inferiors, anyway. See you on the quidditch pitch." He saluted Ron, then sauntered away.
Ron slammed his broom into it's place in the dressing room, threw on a school robe, and headed to the great hall for breakfast.
"Ron, you smell," Hermione greeted him. She was eating a large pile of buttered toast, with an open book next to her plate. She smiled warmly at him.
"Good morning to you," he said, relaxing enough to smile. "G'morning, Harry, Ginny, everyone."
"She has a point," Harry said with a grin. "Where've you been?"
"Quidditch pitch," Ginny guessed.
"Right in one," Hermione said. "Hence the smell."
"Isn't it great to be surrounded by women, Harry? They do your homework for you, remind you of your daily hygeine, and even speak for you."
"Tuck in," Hermione commanded.
Ron obeyed. "Well, we haven't lost to Slytherin, yet," he said, trying to sound confident and piling his plate with eggs and toast.
"Not nervous, are you?" Harry asked. "They've got a fairly weak side this year. Crabbe and Goyle are all right as beaters, but Zabini is a terrible keeper."
"It's not their keeper I'm worried about, mate. It's their chasers."
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her book.
"Hermione, breakfast is no time to read," Ginny teased. "What've you got there?"
"It's my tricktionary."
Now it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes. "What are you reading a tricktionary, for anyway?"
"I'm not reading it," Hermione bristled. "It was the only thing I had in my bag."
"Well, here, read my homework instead."
"Ron!" Ginny scolded. Ron stuck his tongue out at his sister. Ginny grinned and stuck her tongue back out at him. "I'm going to tell mum you're cheating."
"I'm going to tell mum you're being a prat."
"I'm going to tell you both to shut it," Harry laughed.
"Don't make me separate you two," Hermione added. She smiled again at Ron.
Ron paused. "Hey, why are you... er, not reading your tricktionary?" he asked seriously.
"I'm trying to ignore Malfoy. He's making eyes at me." Hermione answered, suddenly avoiding his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"You heard me. Malfoy is making eyes at me. It's dead annoying. But it's not that big of a deal, Ron, don't make that face at me."
"Would you like me to go and pummel him for you?"
"Yeah, try that," Hermione answered. "Seriously, it's nothing. It's not like he can hurt me right here in the great hall."
"Fine, but don't expect me to let you go out to the library by yourself."
Ginny chuckled and whispered something to Harry. Harry grinned and nodded at her.
Suddenly a fluttering of wings announced the morning mail. A business-like slate-colored owl brought Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet. Errol dropped a package into Ron's lap, then landed himself on Ginny. Ginny stroked his scruffy head.
Ron tore greedily into the package. "Cakes from mum. One for each of us." He handed a small green cake shaped like a dragon to Harry. "Even you, mate."
Harry grinned. "Excellent."
Ginny laughed. "Look, there's a book-shaped one for you, Hermione."
Hermione smiled from behind her paper. "That's lovely. Tell her thank you for me, won't you?"
"Mmhmmm," Ginny nodded.
"Anything interesting in the paper, Hermione?"
"Well... not really. The new minister of magic is trying awfully hard to please the pure bloods, though. I think he's trying to keep them on his side. I don't like it."
"I wish Dumbledore had taken the job," Ginny said softly.
"I don't, then," Ron retorted. "What if they had given us Umbridge back for a headmistress?"
"Ron, Umbridge is in Azkaban! Honestly, don't you read?"
Ron grinned. "Don't need to, you always keep me up to date."
Ginny frowned suddenly. "He just said your name again."
"Malfoy?" Hermione asked.
Ginny nodded.
"Third time this morning."
Hermione folded up the Daily Prophet and tucked it under her arm. "I'm going to the library."
Ron stood up to follow her. "All right, then, let's go."
Suddenly, Hermione was stone-faced. "Ron, you're not coming with me."
"I'm not kidding. I'm not letting you go alone."
"I'm not kidding, either. If you want, Ginny can come with me."
"Oh." Ron's face fell. "All right then."
"It's a girl thing," Hermione added quickly. She gave Ginny a significant glance.
"Right," agreed Ginny quickly. "You would be bored, Ron."
"Don't be long, Ginny," Harry said. "We have to get ready for the game."
"We won't be long," Hermione promised.
They gathered their things and left. "What was that all about?" Ron asked.
"No idea," Harry admitted.
"You don't think she fancies Draco, do you?" Ron asked seriously.
"Who, Ginny?"
"No! Hermione."
"Good lord, no, Ron. Everyone knows she fancies you," he teased.
Ron punched him on the shoulder. "I'm being serious, Harry. There's something going on with Draco."
"What do you mean?"
Ron relayed the story of Draco's unusual comments earlier.
"I wouldn't worry, Ron. There's no way she fancies him. He's an arse, Hermione knows that."
"Krum was an arse, too," Ron murmured.
"Come on. We've got to get ready."
Ron sighed.
"Ron. No thinking about girls. It's quidditch time."
Ron smiled. "Right you are."
In the library, Hermione pulled out the Daily Prophet again and showed it to Ginny. "Sorry to pull you away from Harry, Gin-" Hermione said.
Ginny blushed.
"-but it's really important."
"What's wrong?"
"This."
Preservation Decree #78
By Order of the Minister of Magic
Any pureblood male of age
who can trace his line back 11 generations
(with no muggle or muggle-born blood) may:
As of this date, October 7:
Select for the preservation of his family
and the health of his bloodline,
Any muggleborn female witch,
(interested parties may contact the ministry for the full list)
and, upon presentation of a brideprice of 400 galleons
(200 galleons to the ministry and 200 galleons to the witch's father)
may claim her as his betrothed until he sees fit to marry her.
Let the rejoicing begin!
{the minister had very messy handwriting}
Minister of Magic
Ginny handed the Daily Prophet back to Hermione with her mouth hanging open. "Oh, Hermione..."