Third Time's Lucky

The third part of the Luck series: Ron tries three times to give Hermione a kiss for luck before her Defence Against the Dark Art's O.W.L. OotP Unfortunately he comes up against Harry Ruddy Potter, the boy who interrupts.

...

He was pursuing her through the musty old library. Every now and again she'd turn towards him coyly. Her eyes were so beautiful sparkling like that; begging him to do something mischievous. Her wild hair was so gorgeous; it shone, daring him to count its colours. Her lips were just begging to be kissed; plumb, moist and inviting. What's more, she was wearing the perfume he given her for Christmas.

She smelt like his summer at the Burrow and dessert all rolled into one kissable package. He was dizzy with the longing for her. All he wanted was to kiss her. So he chased her, they weaved in and out of the stacks in a dance of longing. Suddenly, she slowed down and bit her lip. This was their chance; purposefully he ducked his head...

'A little further,' the voice said. Half asleep Ron sat up quickly. It was Harry; struggling to reach some unknown thing. He hoped it was a snitch and Harry was having a Quidditch dream but guessed it was one of his other dreams. One of the endless corridor dreams that meant he hadn't been practicing Occlumency.

'Harry Ruddy Potter, the boy who interrupts!' Ron muttered darkly.

Frustrated, he punched his pillow and threw himself down. He had been so close to kissing Hermione that time... In fact, this was a continuing theme in his life.

Well, there was one thing Harry was incapable of interrupting (because he didn't know about it) and that was Hermione kissing him for luck before quidditch. It happened before most practices now. Somehow she'd find a way to steal away and after those lips touched his face, he felt invincible. And they needed all the luck they could. Matches were harder because of Harry's Quidditch ban and Hermione's concern for Harry's emotional state.

A lot of the time, Ron was tempted to slip Harry a nose bleed nougat so that he and Hermione could have they're chance. However, that wouldn't work because not only would he not be stupid enough to eat a nougat, as someone who'd watched the twins with interest, he probably had the antidote stashed away.

Grumpily he sighed. His life would be so much easier if Harry knew about this thing he had with Hermione. He didn't think he could call their kissing a relationship (even though he wanted it to be). And it wasn't like they was purposely started this thing; the kissing for luck had had started accidently.

The first time it happened, before the second tri-wizard task. In McGonagall's tartan filled office of all places! It'd had been brilliant. They'd nearly kissed; they'd argued, agreed to disagree before she leap up and a kiss meant for his cheek landed on his lips. Automatically, the resulting snog had been long, passionate and full of heat. It was definitely a snog. And they survived so it had to have helped.

The next time she'd done it had been in the library before one of his practices, and he was certain that's what his latest Hermione dream was based on. It had been swift but meaningful:

'Okay, what was that for?' he'd grinned, touching that spot on his face as if trying to capture the sensation.

'For luck of course,' Hermione said in a business-like tone; before spinning on her heels and slipping away.

Unsurprisingly, with his hormones ranging like a hungry hippogriff, his Quidditch performance had improved. It was just when they couldn't meet pre-practice/match that his goal keeping got worse.

Kissing him for luck wasn't the only time they'd kissed during this school year: there had been the time she arrived at Headquarters when they'd had a quick snog session in the living room; they'd also set a Christmas kiss tradition (in Grimmauld Places library); not to mention the time they'd hidden from the Inquisitor Squad in Hogwarts library. That time they'd been caught by Draco and to see him blanch had been mind blowing.

With a smile he realised she definitely had a thing for snogging in libraries; he'd have to remember that.

Before Christmas he guessed Harry was going to snog Cho and Hermione had told him off for being so crass. Later, she'd be insisted that whenever they were doing wasn't as crass as snogging. If Hermione knew he thought of their kissing sessions as snogging she'd have given him detention or something. Snogging didn't seem crass when done with Hermione. However, it wasn't entirely pure and virtuous either.

Snogging was like being Gryffindor Quidditch Keeper not at all what he'd expected. He was a natural at snogging; quidditch, not so much. His mind began to race from pleasant Hermione feelings to direr Quidditch thoughts.

...

The next morning Ron hadn't slept much and he didn't want to deal with Harry. He left their bedroom in a hurry and straight into the path of Hermione.

'What's up with you?' she asked quickly; obviously noticing his appearance.

'Broken night sleep,' he replied shortly. The question was in her eye. Fed up, he groaned, 'Harry had one of his funny dreams.'

'Funny dreams like a normal adolescent thing,' she said screwing her face up, 'or the other kind,' she concluded looking unsure. Ron raised his eyebrow with the deepest sarcasm. 'But Harry shouldn't be having those dreams,' Hermione countered moving forward to adjust his tie, 'what about Snape's lessons?'

'I don't know Mione,' he answered gently feeling calmer as she lightly touched his tie, 'ask him!'

'Don't worry I will do,' she said with grim determination.

For a minute, Ron felt a vindictive smile play upon his lips. However, as Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, the tired look on Harry's face changed Ron's mind. 'Mione, not just now... leave it till later!' he whispered.

It was only after Harry had made the comment about his Quidditch performance that Ron felt less-charitable. He noticed Hermione's lips thin and was happy she dealt with Harry.

It wasn't until he was on his way to Quidditch practice that he really began to see how irate Hermione was. Unsurprisingly, she'd found an excuse to leave Harry in the common room. Saying she'd forgotten a book in the library and needed it for her essay. It wasn't such a stretch because with little this being OWL month, Hermione was forever diving into the library.

Silently, they walked through the shadow and light of corridor until they made it to the hidden spiral staircase. For him it felt like it was their special place. It was here they'd hidden; from Filch, third year, Boxing Day when they'd almost made-up; this is where they sometimes talked about from Harry; and where they'd stopped to think whilst running from the Inquisitor Squad.

They were on the third step when Hermione grabbed his hand. She stepped up one, making them eyelevel. He could suppress a smirk. It was very cute when she did that.

'Ronnie,' Hermione said in a timid voice, 'are you alright?' she added genuinely concerned voice.

'Yeah,' he said brightly looking down at their joined hands.

'I'm glad because Harry was out of line lashing out at you like that... about the dream, I mean.'

'Well, I used to it,' Ron shrugged, trying to remember how to breathe, wondering how on earth he'd ever thought she was a nightmare, 'since last summer he's seemed like a different person and that's just his nasty side.'

'I know but...' she started before changing her mind. He gave her his best really-Mione-I'm-fine smile 'Oh well, you better be going to practice.' Without fuss she lent closer and kissed his cheek tenderly. It lingered and his inside felt like they were melting, 'Good luck then,' she beams before rushing past him towards her destination. For a second, he was left dazed and touched the side of his face like he'd done before.

The only thing that lingered was the faint whiff of the perfume he'd given her for Christmas. Summer at the Burrows and dessert: needless to say Quidditch practice went well after that.

...

The morning of the final Quidditch match seemed to be upon them sooner than anyone could have predicted. Unable to sleep, Ron snuck downstairs as silently as a bug. At the window, he sat and watched the light touch the goal posts on the Quidditch pitch. They were like rings of fire, dangerous and perilous his breath hitched. I'm doomed; he thought gloomily, I'm the worst quidditch player Hogwarts had ever seen.

In that moment, he realised something. It would take something spectacular for his quidditch performance to get worse. Just like when he started Hogwarts, no one expected greatness. As far as he was aware Gryffindor's weren't even planning a party after the match. Ron suddenly felt relieved. He was just going to play because he liked it and forget everything else. Then, Crookshanks appeared on his lap.

'Hey 'shanks,' he asked affectionately, 'do you think we're going to win?' Crookshanks meowed happily and curled up. For a mad moment, he wanted to send Crookshanks upstairs to fetch Hermione; but he knew it would be selfish. So, he sat there trying to compose a letter to Bill; about how much of a chump he felt for trying to be keeper.

...

Later that match, however, no matter how much Ron said this match didn't matter: it did. It was going to be his last match: of the year, and of his Hogwarts career. It was good that Fred and George weren't here to see his out and out disgrace. As he flew up to the goalposts, he saw Hermione's hair being messed by a light wind. Harry was sat next to her hopefully looking up. Suddenly, he wasn't as relaxed as he'd thought. He hated to lose in front of his two best friends.

Fleetingly, he realised something he'd miss about being keeper: Hermione kissing him. This morning Harry couldn't be gotten rid of, so he was disappointed they'd not gotten the chance. But And he knew it was entirely possible to snog Hermione all the time, if he asked her to be his girlfriend.

'And they're off!' Ron vaguely heard Lee Jordan shout. Then, it was like a nightmare. He wondered if someone had cursed him because everything was happening in slow motion. Davis had the Quaffle, he swept one way, dodged the other and had scored because Ron had change to guess or second guess himself.

His groans were echoed by every Gryffindor at the match. He was too afraid to look at Hermione and Harry but caught a glimpse of Draco get into position to conduct Weasley is Our King. Sure enough, within seconds the Slytherin stand was in fine voice and Ron wanted them all to start 'eating slugs'. His confidence waned. Silently, as he redirected his gaze to the Quaffle, he swore that one day the incredible bouncing ferret would pay.

As he found the Quaffle, he noticed that Hagrid was whispering to Harry and Hermione. If Ron wasn't in the middle of a quidditch match; it would register more clearly that Hagrid looked like he'd been in a fight. All that registered was Hermione and Harry were edging away from their seats and that the Quaffle was heading his way. Out of nowhere, a little voice whispered, you can do this! He remembered all the times his brothers had made him play keeper and unexpectedly, this wasn't so difficult.

Bradley was coming towards him quickly: his expression triumphant. Bearing right (Bradley's left); it reminded him of how Percy the Prat would play whenever he'd been forced to. Without over thinking it, Ron Weasley dived for the ball. With all his might he dived left (Bradley's right) knowing he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. To everyone surprise, including his own; the ball easily landed in his glove.

The rest of the game happened in a blur. Without Fred and George to laugh at him; and without Hermione and Harry to distract him with their overwhelming hope; he just concentrated on the Quaffle. Within five minutes, he'd saved another one with millimetres to spare and he began to enjoy himself. His enjoyment increased when the Slytherin fans choked on their Weasley is Our King lyrics.

To say that Ron Weasley enjoyed the end of the match was an understatement. Being carried aloft by a jubilant crowd of maroon and gold was only the beginning. The Euphoric crowd began another chorus of Weasley is Our King as Harry and Hermione came into view. They smiled and didn't let whatever news Hagrid had told them spoil the celebration. For which he was glad.

At the party, they stood shoulder to shoulder with him as he relived some of the greatest Quidditch moments. Lee, Neville and the Creevy brothers snuck into the kitchen's for party supplies. There was even a mysterious case of Butterbeer delivered for the team to share. Ron's favourite part of the party was when after one too many butterbeer's, giggly Hermione tried to be strict and send the first years to bed before midnight.

...

The perfume smell is mentioned in chapter one of The Brother's Code. For the other moments referenced please see my profile. This is part of the luck series.

TBC