I'm sorry, but I just couldn't help myself. Please forgive me.
Dislaimer: You know the speil.
Ron sat in the attic while hiding from one of the things that feared him most. He also loved that said thing, or person, so it made it very complicated. However, the problem could be put to a person in a one-word form
Hermione.
Why were women so bleeding complicated? Why was he still devoid of a guide on how to translate the weird things girls do into simple words and phrases, so that men could understand them? And why, for the love of Merlin, were socks, important?
Ron sat happily on the couch while looking over Hermione's shoulder as she was reading on his lap (no complaints there). He was busy smelling her hair innocently (honestly, his mind wasn't wandering) when she turned around and looked deep into his eyes. Ron wasn't complaining.
"'Ello, Hermione, how are you this fine day?" he asked cheerily. This, however, did not divert her attention.
"Ronald," she asked, making Ron gulp (as she used his full name only when she was angry, or frustrated with him, which meant no snogging), "did you honestly follow the advice on page thirty-seven? It's absolute rubbish." Ron's eyes widened, and he took his first glance at the book. It read clearly; Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches.
"Erm," Ron stuttered, searching frantically for a viable, and smooth, answer, "no?" His squeaked-out answer did nothing, or at least very little, to convince Hermione.
"Oh, come on. And how did you just happen to use this very same line on me last week. Although I think it was supposed to be something along the lines of "you are the love of my life" instead of "you are the dove in my strife." Really, I mean, can't you even quote this rubbish correctly?" Hermione asked, slightly amused and angry at the same time.
"Maybe I meant it to be that way!" Ron fibbed furiously, trying to snag some answer out of thin air. Unfortunately, the air was rather thin that day.
"Oh please, Ron," Hermione tutted in amusement, "do I honestly look like I have feathers and a beak?"
"No, not at all!" Ron quicky soothed, then ammending, "Although I must admit there were some similarities when you attacked me with those birds for yours..." Ron caught the look on Hermione's face.
"I take it back, you're stunning. And absolutely feather free," Ron said, pressing his forehead against hers in what he thought was a very romantic fashion. Apparently, due to the evidence of the intense snogging session a minute later, it was.
"So," Hermione hummed, looking down into his eyes from her perch on the edge of the couch, "when are you going to finish the laundry?"
And that's when the fight broke out.