Hello, everyone! So, here is my FF called Rules and Regulations! It's about all our beloved Harry Potter characters and their foolish mistakes they made in their love lives. Sounds entertaining, eh?

Oh, and thanks to my best friend, Stacey, who helped me come up with this glorious idea!

Well, if you enjoy this story, keep reading! If not, well, I tried.

In this chapter, Hermione's smart. Ron … not so much.

Never Disrupt Your Witch or Wizard When They're Studying for OWLs

It was late, and Ron was one of the few people awake. But he was much too happy to go to sleep now. He had something to show Hermione. Something that he was sure she'd be impressed by. He had something to show Hermione, and unlike most things he showed her, he was positive she'd be impressed, or so he hoped. He wanted to do something that would be the perfect ending to his night. Sauntering joyfully into the Gryffindor common room, Ron approached Hermione, whose eyes clung to the pages of her books. She hadn't sensed his presence, or maybe she had, but chose to ignore it. She spends every waking hour with those books, he thought. She's practically married to them! I think she'd appreciate a little break. Ron really didn't care if Hermione felt she needed to study or not, he was far too thrilled. Far too overwhelmed with cheerfulness that he could hardly stand it.

Carefully, Ron tiptoed over to where she was slaving over a piece of parchment. He inhaled a gulp of air, swallowed hard and spoke.

"Hermione?" he whispered in the lightest tone possible.

She remained transfixed by her work. Ron thought he'd better try again.

"Hermione?" he said increasing the volume of his voice a bit.

Ron could barely make out the low grumble she produced. He knew that he was irritating her, but there was no turning back now.

"Listen, Hermione, I have this trick that I learned and I–"

Her head snapped up and Ron's heart nearly stopped. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was an abundance of bushiness–bushier than usual, that is–and she looked like she hadn't slept in a month, or maybe even a year, or maybe even two years. Anyhow, it was petrifying. "What, Ronald? What trick are you harassing me with this time?"

"Look! I can turn your quill into a bird!" And with the flick of his wand, Hermione's writing utensil was turned into a white dove that fluttered around the room. It was quite the sight, if he did say so himself. But when he looked back at Hermione's face, which he'd expected to be taken over by amusement, he was baffled as to why her eyes blazed with a fiery passion.

"Ronald Weasley, was that honestly what you wanted to show me? Turning my quill into a bird. Unlike you, I care about my grades and, unlike you, I actually want to pass these OWLs and, unlike you, I want to have something remotely close to a future! So if you have a problem with me wanting to study then, by all means, feel free to go back up to your dorm and not bother to study and do all the petty tricks you want. Okay, Ron? Now, I'm going to get back to work!"

Ron felt as though he'd been struck by a body-binding curse. He was rooted to the spot and his muscles remained motionless. He knew Hermione was very … dedicated to her work, but he never for a minute thought that she could be so deadly. And dead was what he was going to be if he didn't get out of here and fast.

"I … I'm really sorry, Hermione. I'll just leave you alone then. I know you'll pass. Goodnight, I guess." He slowly turned around, and headed up the stairs, his head hanging low and his heart feeling like it was falling into a bottomless abyss of loneliness. He heard the crinkling of paper and the scratching of Hermione's spare quill from behind him.