Hollywood remake of Anam Cara
Originally written by: Redblaze and Shellyk
Last time updated 12/10/2006 - (I say that again … 2006)
**Rewrite done by Billybob – begun 02/01/2017
Alternate Universe (AU) Does not follow established cannon.
Old total Word count – original version; 38,576
Billybob word count 94,406 - - (I've updated it a-bit)
(Rewrite author's notes): this is an really old one folks – from a time before book seven was even published (2007) and honestly it is rather smutty – it was rated M when it first came out and justifiably so … those of you that are naïve enough to think in the year 2018, that teenagers at seventeen (Ron) and eighteen (Hermione) don't ever think about sex or drinking … need to find a safe room and cuddle with a teddy bear and fool around with *Play-Doh* like the rest of the college delusional wimps.
If you were raised in a Covent and didn't think impure thoughts during your formative teenage years – or skipped puberty entirely – then you might just want to skip the rewrite of this great short story.
It was originally penned by: Redblaze and Shellyk to whom I give full credit – praise and glory. Two writers whom; as far as I can tell, have both moved on to other things beyond HP fan-fiction. Getting permission for a rewrite - from people who are long gone - obviously isn't going to happen. - However; if either one of them find out about my rewrite – and can prove their authorship and disapprove of what I've done herein – out of deep respect for their original tale … I will delete my rewrite at once.
Traditional Disclaimer: I'm not the author of the Happy Potter books, and the only profit I seek is the amusement of my few internet readers. JKR owns everything else.
I am admittedly- not -even a remotely trained writer; I have even been asked if English is a second language for me. There will be grammar and writing format errors in this 'tale' that will turn many a stomach. Honestly-people there is only so much spell check will do. I consider myself an unskilled… story teller, who shouldn't be allowed to publish without a qualified editor.
Basically - -I write the way I speak, as if I was reading out-loud a stage play – while auditioning for a role. By this I mean - inserting pauses in dialog for emphasis. It's not proper written English, I know, - - but it is a-lot better English than what is seen today, in 'text messages – or on – Facebook'
Again; you have been warned! - This one is extra smutty - so - "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here"
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"When you are blessed with an anam cara, the Irish believe, you have arrived at that most sacred place: home." - John O'Donahue
Summary: The discovery of a mysterious, old medallion starts a chain of events that bring Ron and Hermione together in ways neither of them could have ever anticipated. The question now is. . .How close is too close?
Chapter One
RBW POV
88**88
The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had been brutal. Ron was sweaty, grimy and sore all over, but it had been well worth it to beat some Slytherin arse. The celebration on the pitch lasted about a half hour before the Gryffindor's retreated to the Tower for some intense partying. All he wanted at that moment though… was a long hot shower to combat some of the stiffness in his shoulders and to relax a bit under the warm jet of water before he rejoined the rest of the team for a pint of butterbeer or maybe a titch of Firewhisky to warm the soul. He wandered down the hall, towards the changing room, and undressed haphazardly, not caring where the pieces of his Quidditch uniform fell. He'd pick them up later; he was just too tired at the moment and needed that shower. - - Soon enough, he was fully naked. - The tiled floor felt like ice beneath his feet. The closer he came to the shower room, made him realized he could hear running water. - He naturally assumed that one of the blokes was still here, cleaning up before the party, (because female players have their own locker-room) … but when he reached the shower room - he realized it wasn't one of his teammates under that shower spray…
… And definitely; NOT, one of the blokes. It was (instead) a woman that stood under the water jet, glistening and wet and very much naked. He groaned and immediately hardened. Watching the woman wash herself was maddening _and suddenly, it didn't seem at all odd to find a woman in the blokes' shower (again: ladies have their own). - - Without thinking, he walked toward her. The shower room floor was wet, the water warm and swirling towards the drain. - He didn't make a sound; the woman didn't seem to realize he was coming closer. - Now, he had a greater view of her body, and it took everything he had not to rush over and fuck her … right then and there. She was shorter than he was, perhaps six or seven inches shorter. Her hair was long, and looked almost black because of its wetness. It hung more than half way down her back, almost touching her small, prefect bum. - - And what a bum it was. He had never seen a better looking arse in his life. - It wasn't too big or round, yet not completely non-existent or too flat.
Most of his male siblings, didn't fancy 'petite' girls. - The twins for example, preferred witches that tended to be hour-glass voluptuous (measurement wise) the type that filled most of the adult magazines that Seamus had hidden in his trunk. - Charlie also fancied the big busted birds, at Hogwarts - - but Bill seemed to hold the opposite point of view, for Ron had seen Bill's wife Fleur, sunbathing at the Burrow (the previous summer) wearing a bare midriff cropped tee-shirt and tiny shorts and that- 'peanut smuggler'- had a (super-model) pipe cleaner figure. Ron couldn't speak about Percy's preferences, as his fiancé (if real) Audrey had never been brought to the- Burrow - meet the family.
None of Ron's brothers were big fans of overly brilliant witches (the Ravenclaw type). - Even Bill chose a Veela that was both wise and culturally sophisticated … but not book-smart brilliant like the next Head girl of Hogwarts. - Regretfully, Ron fancied to the extreme such a girl but his efforts to chat-up Hermione … well … his success rate with a particularly lady … a petite, pipe cleaner figured witch, hadn't exactly been stellar… so far.
The odd thing was, this woman in the shower … was physically … very similar in body type to the lady Ron fancied so much … to him this dripping wet witch, was simply perfect. – She had a small hour-glass figure, which under clothing would be barely visible, but dripping wet and naked … wow. - There was just enough substance there, for his large hands to grab onto comfortably. He licked his lips. If she looked this glorious from behind, he was dying to see her from the front. He wanted to know exactly the size and shape of her bosom and tormented him … who was this goddess in front of him. - He raised his arm, and placed his hand on her… shoulder. - She didn't seem surprised at the contact. His heart beat wildly in anticipation. He would know who she was. He'd finally know. Slowly, she turned, and spoke
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Ron shot up in bed, startled out of his dream, his most- magnificent -recurring dream. - He tried to shake the sleep from his head and eyes, idly noting that Harry was reluctantly doing the same in his bed across the room they shared in the Order headquarters of Grimmauld Place. - And that's when he realized he never got to see who his dream woman was. - Bollocks! - Every time he'd dreamed that dream, someone or something interrupted him. - He was beginning to think he was cursed and if you take into account his miserable dating experience … during almost all his time at Hogwarts – that fact alone made him start cursing, using every bit of colorful language he knew.
"Ron! Watch your language," Hermione huffed.
She stood in the middle of the room, wearing her- 'ultra conservative' -pink dressing gown, tied securely at the waist of course, arms crossed, and glaring daggers at him. Her hair flew wildly about her head, like she had just woken up, which was rather likely; since it was early.
What time was it anyway? He reached for his clock; it pointed to 'Too Bloody Early' which was exactly what he thought too. - - Groaning, he flopped back down onto his bed, and covered his face with his pillow. If he was lucky, he'd smother himself, and then maybe he'd get to finish that dream.
"Go away, Hermione. I'm sleeping," he mumbled from beneath the pillow, though it came out rather muffled.
"Ron, if you don't get up this instant, you will regret it! - You don't want to be late on your first day as Head Boy, do you?" Hermione's voice was becoming a little shrill with panic.
Letting out a short; annoyed breath, Ron abruptly sat up (again), his pillow falling onto his lap. "I never wanted to be head-boy – I got talked into it. - I wanted to have a-little fun this year – not do all the crap the heads do . . . and besides - I won't be late!" - Immediately, he dropped back onto his bed, and pulled the covers over his head, in a vain attempt at shielding her from his slumber. He hadn't expected the shock of the cold morning air to hit him so suddenly… "bloody hell."
He opened his eyes to see Hermione holding his covers. She had yanked them off his bed, leaving him cold and dressed only … his ill fitting (hand me down) rather 'snug' boxers. - Harry was lying on his bed nearby; shaking with amusement, his head buried in his pillow to silence his laughter. Having had enough, Ron stalked over to where Hermione stood, ignoring the feeling in his stomach at the look on her face. Apparently, she hadn't expected him to be sleeping practically naked. - He almost forgave her when he saw the pronounced blush, creep across her cheeks… almost. - She had interrupted his dream after all.
Taking the covers from a stricken looking Hermione, Ron deadpanned, "I believe these are mine." And he made his way back to his bed, and wrapped himself in a tight cocoon of covers, before adding, "Now, I'm going back to my dream."
"Fine!" she said, clearly having snapped out of her erotic stupor, for those formfitting boxers had shown her something about Ron (clearly outlined) that she had not expected to see. - "If your Head Boy status is revoked (she said) because you're late, Ronald Bilius, don't blame me! - I was only looking out for your well-being!" The door cracked shut, and two seconds later, Ron and Harry heard a second door - most likely the one to the bedroom she was sharing with Ginny – slam as well.
Ron poked his head from his covers to stare at the door. -"Touchy, that one," he declared.
"You do have a talent for annoying her," Harry volunteered, surprising Ron a bit. He had forgotten that Harry was there in the first place, and felt slightly guilty. That seemed to be happening more and more when Hermione was around, but Ron didn't like to dwell on it.
"Well, if she didn't rip me from my naked women dreams, then maybe I wouldn't be so short with her."
Harry perked up a bit. "You had the dream … again?"
"Yeah. I tell you, Harry, it was great. It was in the Quidditch changing rooms this time."
Both young men groaned. It had been a long time fantasy of both boys, one they had shared during a night of drinking where they admitted they would love to shag a girl in the changing rooms.
"Did you get to see who she was this time?"
"No." Ron sighed and ran a hand through his tussled red hair. He tossed on the bed, so he lay on his side, and faced Harry's bed. "I was this close." Ron's index and thumb indicated about an inch. "She was turning around when 'Miss Head Girl Alarm Clock' struck."
"Rotten luck, mate"; Harry shook his head in sympathy. -"Well, we've got about another hour before we really should get up. Maybe you'll get to see her this time", - he offered.
"I hope so."
They settled back into their beds, and soon Ron was asleep again. Unfortunately, he did not dream.
88**88
Ron's toe made very strong contact with the corner of the oak dresser.
"Bloody … fucking … hell!"
Rushing around, trying to get everything packed … before his mum realized he hadn't packed at all … until now, anyway. - In the progress, Ron had somehow stubbed his toe, and now he hobbled around the room trying to get everything packed. - He glanced at the clock, and groaned because he was running out of time. He still had to take a shower and eat breakfast, and accomplish all of this in a mere twenty-five minutes, so that Hermione wouldn't have anything to nag him about. Ron wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of saying 'I told you so'.
"It's all yours, mate," Harry informed him of the bathroom status, poking his head into the bedroom.
"Cheers, Harry."
All right then … Ron said as he surveyed the room and decided that if he cut his shower down to five minutes, he would be able to finish packing and would still have time to spare for breakfast. He reached for his towel, and flung it over his shoulder as he crossed the hall to the bathroom. It didn't take him long to undress – he was on a tight schedule – and soon, he was washing up under the warm stream of water.
The soap travelled his body, quickly creating a rich lather, when the images from last night's dream floated back. His hand brushed his cock, making it spring to life. His mind debated; he didn't really have time for this, but every time he closed his eyes, he could see the woman from his dreams so clearly, and wondered what would have happened if the dream hadn't been interrupted. Would he have shagged her under the shower spray? - - No doubt.
Mind made up, Ron firmly grasped himself, and began stroking steadily. His body responded instantly, causing him to harden further. His eyes closed lazily, causing his imagination to wander, filling in the blanks of his dream. Ron imagined the faceless woman falling to her knees and taking him into her mouth. God! That would feel fantastic. Then, the image blurred and was replaced with the sight of him shagging her against the wall. Ron moaned, and stroked himself faster. He still couldn't see her face, but somehow that didn't matter. He needed to find release quickly. His fist pumped his erection strongly; when he came, he cried out.
Breathing hard, he tried to catch his breath. That had been the best wank he'd had, and it was all due to his dream woman. He bet that if he ever found out what she looked like, he'd likely explode.
"Ron, are you alright?" Hermione called out from the hall.
Her voice was almost like dropping twenty buckets of ice-cold water on his head. What the hell was she doing in the hall? What had she heard? He prayed to every deity he knew, asking for a little bit of help."Uh, I'm fine Hermione." His voice seemed to resonate oddly. He hoped beyond everything that Hermione hadn't heard him wanking. Shite … shite … shite.
"Are you sure? I thought I heard something."
He shook his fists in the air, damning said deities, and made quick work of washing up. "I said I was fine!" he reiterated, as he stepped out of the shower. Too bad he hadn't been looking where he was stepping because his foot landed on a wet bit of tile, causing him to slip and curse loudly. His knee hit the basin; he saw stars from the pain.
"Ron, what was that?"
"Nothing!"
"That wasn't 'nothing'! - Let me in; Ronald Bilius", she said in an angry tone.
"No."
"You may be hurt."
"I am also … dripping wet and very naked at the moment. - Now unless you wish to see me in all my glory, I strongly suggest you drop the matter."
A pregnant pause hung in the air. "I'll meet you downstairs, then?"
"Good girl," he whispered, though felt oddly disappointed at her decision. - It would have been quite interesting to see what would have developed had Hermione opted to join him in the bathroom. - - Such a thing would never happen, though. - Hermione Jean was much too_ 'prim and proper' _about male female interaction to engage in sex with him _and he cared too much about her to lose their friendship over an attempted quick tumble in the shower … especially with a boy; she'd repeatedly refuse to get romantically involved with.
Naturally … the new Head Girl of Hogwarts would totally ignore his nakedness - while lecturing him over the thousands of reasons surrounding the impracticality of the very idea … of he and she being together. - Mostly of these objections would center on his insufficient grades and peasant like table manners mixed vigorously with the disgusting reality that the bloke, naked in the shower wasn't; Harry James Potter, the boy she had been semi-chasing since she was a firstie.
Knowing deep down he wasn't _her type of bloke, was always a mood killer for him … but that was just a fact of life that he had to live with. - It never entered his calculations that his dream girl could be the prim and proper Miss Granger, because whoever the extra horny girl from the locker-room fantasy was … the one bird on earth that Ron knew with absolute certainly would never 'put out' for him … was Hermione. She barely acknowledged his existence on any level …but that sad fact (in itself) didn't mean he couldn't think about doing the Head-Girl it - so Ron decided to file that thought away for future reference.
Grinning, he dressed at breakneck speed, before rushing back into his and Harry's temporary bedroom to finish packing. He chanced a glance at the clock, which confirmed his suspicions; he only had five minutes to finish packing … Bollocks. - - He couldn't get it done in that time frame … not with his wand anyway … so looking around to make sure he was alone … (with his wand still on his bed, untouched) _Ron then raised his right hand – which began glowing light blue and in the blink of an eye; all his dresser drawers flung open.
Another flick of one finger and all of his clothes were airborne, flying into his trunk … neatly folded. Books and personal items quickly followed. At the same time his usually cluttered bedroom was scrubbed clean, beyond anything ever seen before – in fact; his mother would be shocked speechless when she saw his room, after coming back home.
Had Ron actually had the luxury of more time, he would have sat back and watched his magical handiwork. - Ever since the Department of mysteries battle and his encounter with the brain; his ability to use a 'wand controlled magic' had abruptly ended. Put a real wand in his hand (any wand) and it just shattered.
It had been Professor Dumbledore who had helped him; by replacing his old shattered wand with an plain oaken stick, that had been magiced to look and feel like his old wand _and it had been the headmaster who had arranged for a few (retired) members of the_ Unspeakables _to investigate his abilities and teach him how to control it. – Ron was then sworn to secrecy over this newly found ability. - No one knew, except for certain members of the order … including some; but not all of the teaching staff (not Snape of course, Ron had insisted on that) so only a limited number knew what he could do anymore … and his parents, the twins … Harry and Hermione weren't on the short list. Keeping this blue magic secret from his best friends - - (Dumbledore's idea) was made a-lot easier by the fact that his OWL scores had_ not _been good enough to qualify for NEWT level classes. –
Ron really didn't think that Albus had deliberately fudged his grades to break up the trio … for he had earned each and every one of his barely averaged marks. Harry and Hermione had for different reasons, (political and brilliance) had qualified to sit in the advanced classes … with Ron … meanwhile; having the *honor* to undergoing an additional year worth of training in … skilled trades. – Because they now sat in different classes, fate had separated the three friends for the first time since entering Hogwarts and as a result, these different lines of study had made the blue magic secret far easier to keep.
His two best friends apparently; didn't know or care all that much …about what Ron was doing in trades; Harry being overly obsessed with Draco (last year) meanwhile … Hermione nose was buried in a book (as usual) and without Ron bugging her for homework help … the number of times she had interacted directly with Ron had been dramatically reduced. As she always seemed to overlook him anyway, so his absence wasn't really noticed by her (at first). - The 'chosen one' and his brainy sidekick (girlfriend wannabee) had apparently_ 'moved on' _to the NEWT's level classes … without a single backward glance (that Ron noticed) at the one who had fallen behind.
Falling off his friends radar, turned out to be a good thing for Ron … (in a way), for it had allowed the secret training in blue magic to continue at Hogwarts (by a retired members of the Ministry's – Unspeakables department) that Ron had first undergone during sixth year concerning how to 'channel' his new magic through a ordinary stick (to keep-up appearances) this method however; as a negative by-produce, greatly limited his magical output and control to way below average.
Draco (naturally) had been overjoyed to learn of Ron's shortcomings magically (during 6th. year) and had rubbed Ron's face in his spell casting weakness at every opportunity. - Hermione said publicly that Ron's magical weakness didn't bother her, but he could see the flicker of annoyance in her eyes when in one of the few classes they still shared together (charms/transfiguration) when he exposed his subpar ability to perform even the simplest of 'practice' spells. Ron didn't know what annoyed her the most … the fact that her 'friend' and quasi-brother weren't as good at spell work as her precious Viktor … or being stuck in the company of such an obviously inferior wizard. - Ron suspected it was a little of both.
88**88 - meanwhile back in Ron's bedroom
As the last text books flew about the room, fighting for a choice positioning in his trunk … Ron witnessed a few narrow misses and almost collisions, but his head managed to make it out of the room …unscathed. - He sealed his trunk closed, and then went to retrieve his broomstick from under his bed.
Panic flowed through him when he realized it wasn't there. Frantically, he wondered where on earth it would be, considering it was always under his bed, just like Harry always kept his Firebolt under his own. - Granted, Ron's wasn't the best broomstick in the world, but it was his _ and he prized it above all of his other possessions. – So … before he did something rash, like literally tearing apart the entire room with blue magic, (he had actually done that … once) blowing-out a window (very messy). Ron tried to think about this logically.
"RONALD WEASLEY! IF YOU DON'T GET YOURSELF AND YOUR TRUNK DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT, WE WILL LEAVE WITHOUT YOU … HEAD BOY OR NOT!"
"I'll be right down, Mum!"
Right-then ... He was sorely tempted to 'blue magic' levitate everything off the floor, when something shiny under Harry's bed caught his attention. The floor was hard beneath his knees – and unusually spotless as neither he nor Harry were the neatest of blokes. His curiosity made him forget his mother's threat of leaving him here, as he tilted his head to get a better look under the bed now gently floating some eight inches above the floor.
Right there, (not two feet away) in front of him was a strange coin. - Ron instinctively picked it up. – But it wasn't actually a coin; it was a medallion of some kind, made of silver or something of the sort. He wasn't well versed in metals. On the front of it there seemed to be some kind of intricate pattern carved into the surface, like a whole bunch of ropes all knotted together. The back was smooth, but there was some sort of inscription he couldn't understand. The language seemed familiar, but Ron couldn't make out what it said.
The medallion also looked very, very old. How did it get under Harry's bed? - Ron wondered … it wasn't Harry's, since Harry didn't own many things … especially jewelry _ and the things he did own were practical and newly bought. - He unconsciously flipped the medallion back and forth in his hand without noticing the golden glow that the coin produced while being handled. - - He didn't notice because his mind was franticly trying to remember the last place he saw his broom.
"RONALD! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!"
"Coming!"
Shite … He quickly pocketed the medallion, and just as quickly forgetting about it, and resumed looking for his broom. From his kneeling position, he saw twigs peeking out from under Harry's quilt. - Reaching farther under the bed, Ron's hand grasped the object of his search. - A loud triumphant whoop echoed throughout the bedroom when his beloved broomstick emerged. - He didn't have time to figure-out what it was doing under Harry's bed, because his mother was screaming again.
"I'm coming!"
Ron ran out of the room without noticing that his blue-magic in packing his trunk had cleaned his bedroom so thoroughly, that his own mom wouldn't recognize it. The floor appeared scrubbed and waxed, the patch of rug washed, no dust bunnies to be seen anywhere. Somehow and unknowingly magic had folded-up Harry's cot, his blanket and sheets neatly in a pile - while doing the same for Ron's stripped bare mattress. - - Meanwhile; Ron flew down the stairs two at a time, his trunk floating behind him. He literally ran into the kitchen, out of breath. He sat down, and began loading his plate with bacon when his mother entered.
"Finally! - Right now. Everyone gather your things. We're off."
"But Mum! - I haven't eaten yet!"
"Well, that will teach you to sleep in, Ronald Weasley. - Now, come along."
Grumbling, Ron left the plate of food behind, while managing to grab a handful of bacon and a few slices of toast, which he wrapped in a cloth napkin – his breakfast in hand he then walked out the door, as he heard Hermione whisper in his ear smugly, "I told you so."
Great … If things stayed like this, it was going to be a very long year.
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To be continued.
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