Author's Notes: I hate songfics; I really do. There isn't much worse than going to read a story that is nice and long, only to find out that 3/4 of the story are friggin' SONG LYRICS. Don't get me wrong, sometimes the stories can be really well-written, and can integrate the song lyrics in such a fashion that it doesn't COMPLETELY sidetrack the flow of the story. Of course, those are the exception, not the rule.
The worst, of course, is when a story is used, apparently, solely as a platform to put a song from pop culture into a Harry Potter story. I can't count the number of times I've seen an Avril Lavigne song being sung on the stage(?) at Hogwarts by one of the students (Hermione, usually) while other students (the rest of the Gryffindors from her year) play electric instruments in accompaniment. I ran across one story the other day where all the Seventh Years are forced to take Muggle Studies and the class does nothing but practice karaoke for a presentation to the rest of the school. The text of the story is maybe 1/6 of the total length of the post, and the songs being sung take up the other 5/6 of the story.
I especially hate the ones where the songs being sung by the Hogwarts students DIDN'T EXIST WHEN THEY WERE AT HOGWARTS!!!!!! Harry, Ron, and Hermione attended Hogwarts from the beginning of September 1991 to the end of June 1997 (and then Hermione went back from Sept. 1998 to June 1999); Avril Lavigne's first album came out in 2002 (I looked it up)...ergo, her particular brand of music would NOT be included in Hogwarts era soundtrack for the Golden Trio. The same goes for Fall Out Boy and any other band/performer who debuted within the last 10 years.
I'm very picky. The broad strokes, I can let roll off me like water off a duck's back, but the little tiny details...the minutia...if you get that wrong...GRRR!!! I HATE THAT!!!! (Just ask my ex. She can back my truck into a pole and I'll laugh it off; but pronounce the word "mines" when you mean "mine" -- as in "That isn't yours, it's mine." -- and I'll blow up.) Want to write a fic where the gang has a band and are playing at Hogwarts despite Muggle electronics NOT WORKING ON HOGWARTS GROUNDS? Fine. I'll play along...but have them play music that didn't exist in the early-to-mid-1990s?! THAT'S IT!! I'M PISSED!!!!
And one wonders why I'm single. :-D
So, I hate songfics. A lot. Which means, I just HAD to write one. See...that's what I do. When I don't like a particular type of story, I write one of my own in a backhanded attempt at poking fun at that particular story type. It's because I'm a dick. Seriously. I hate stories where Hermione marries someone else while Ron pines away for her, so I gave you guys The Wrong Man. I hate stories where Hermione goes off and has Ron's baby in secret only to come back years later, so I'm in the process of writing a tale called Gone Too Long. I hate songfics, so I give you Every Bloody Thing She Does Is Magic.
For anyone who doesn't know, this story was inspired by the lyrics to "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" by the Police. There are NO lyrics included in the story (since that goes against FanFiction posting policy -- and I really hate lyrics in the story), so if you want to see how the story text may or may not have been influenced by particular lines from the song, Google it...it shouldn't be too hard to find. And if you don't know the song...my God, why?! I mean, it's the Police!! It's Sting before he became a self-righteous prick hooked on tantric sex (I like sex as much as the next guy, but seriously, who's got TIME for a three hour orgasm?!)!
The story is told from Ron's point-of-view, and he's...well...I think you all KNOW who the title refers to.
Right. So. Without any furter rigamarole, here's the story!
Disclaimer: Okay, so there's a BIT more rigamarole. Harry Potter and all other characters (RON!!!!!) are owned by J.K. Rowling, and while every little thing SHE does may not be magic, those seven books she wrote sure were. "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" belongs to Sting (he wrote it) and the Police.
Every Bloody Thing She Does Is Magic
I look across the Gryffindor common room, at the mass of bushy brown hair that's currently spilling over the pages of an Ancient Runes textbook. I'm supposed to be paying attention to the chessboard in front of me, because my black-haired best mate is coming dangerously close to beating me for the first time ever, but all I want to do is walk across the room and tell that brown-haired bookworm how completely in love I am with her.
"Oy! Pay attention, Ron, it's your move!"
I turn my head to face Harry and look at him, confused for a second, before I realize what he's talking about. People think I'm stupid, but you have to wonder how much of that is due to the distraction caused by her. She's so amazing that when she's around me, I can't concentrate…and I wind up looking like a complete moron.
"Check."
I move my bishop and take Harry's queen. He could still win if he thinks things through and just doesn't react blindly. Ironic, really, that I would be thinking that about anybody else. Acting without thinking is what I'm best at, but not where chess is concerned. When a chessboard is involved, I'm always thinking five or six moves ahead; pity I can't live my life that way, yeah?
Harry is about to move his castle; a blunder that will have me checkmate his king in three moves. I look down at the pile of broken pieces that were Harry's chessmen, and I see his knight and queen lying together, their pieces interwoven, looking awfully cozy together. I glance back over at the brunette bookworm and I get to my feet.
"What are you doing, Ron?"
"Acting."
I don't know if I sound like an idiot answering Harry's question that way. At this point, I don't bloody care. I need to tell Hermione something, and if I stop to think about it, I'll talk myself out of it. I make my way over to the table where she's got her schoolwork spread out, and she's so busy working on an assigned four-foot-long essay that's already well over six-and-a-half feet long that she doesn't even notice I'm there.
"Hermione…"
She's startled by my voice and she winds up leaving a nasty black line scrawled across her page. As soon as I see that, I know I'm in for it.
"Ron! Look what you made me do!!"
"Sorry, Hermione, I just wanted to…"
"What, Ron? What did you want?"
She looks up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes that always remind me of Chocolate Frogs. Unfortunately for me, those eyes are narrowed at me angrily, and the nerve that I worked up to walk over here and pledge my love for her is suddenly retreating faster than Malfoy in the face of Mad-Eye Moody.
"Err…erm…"
"I love you!"
That's what I want to say to her, but suddenly all I can think is why would she ever want to be with me? I'm poor, I'm stupid…although, as I said, not as stupid as everyone likes to think, I've got this long nose, these annoying freckles, and this horrible red hair. I'm nothing, where Hermione Granger is everything.
"Ron!"
Hermione's voice draws me out of my thoughts and I'm looking at her with my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, trying to form the words. I want to tell her, but I've lost my nerve and now she looks really pissed at me for disturbing her.
"Err…you…want to play winner?"
"Winner?! Ronald Weasley, unlike you I'm trying to get my homework done before the weekend is over! Maybe if you'd do some homework on a Friday, you wouldn't have to rush around on Sunday trying to get it all done!"
"Right…erm…sorry…"
I feel like complete shite for getting her so worked up. Harry's looking at me with a confused look on his face as I shuffle back across the room to the chessboard. He's probably surprised that I didn't get into an argument with her as I normally would. Any other day, if Hermione had lit into me like that about homework, I'd be yelling right back at her, but I was so close to revealing my feelings for her, if I got into a shouting match with her right now, I might lose control of my emotions and scream 'I love you' right in her face. That's not how I want to tell her, so I walk away. See? I'm not as stupid as I seem.
"What was that about?"
I can see on Harry's face that he's wondering if he just witnessed the beginning of another row that will have me and Hermione at each other's throats…or worse, not speaking to each other for weeks.
"Nothing."
I take Harry's castle. Checkmate in two moves. I look back over at Hermione and she's waving her wand over her essay, no doubt removing that long, ugly ink-stain that I caused her to make. I would've had to chuck the whole scroll of parchment and spend the rest of the night re-writing, but not her. She's amazing. Even the most mundane thing she does seems magic to me, and I can't help falling a bit more in love with her each and every time.
Harry's next move is exactly what I expected from him, and as his bishop falls to my knight, and he's one move from losing, he finally realizes his mistake. He decides to take his time, planning his next move carefully in the hopes of drawing the game out a bit longer. To be honest, he still has a chance as long as he leaves his last remaining knight exactly where it is.
Harry continues to contemplate his move, and I let my gaze drift over to the window. Initially I do it because I can see her reflection in it, and if I'm sneaking a peek at her this way, it will draw fewer questions from Harry. Then I notice that it's raining, and my mind starts to wander to a memory.
It was last summer at the Burrow, and we were waiting for Harry to show up. Hermione had been there for about a week, and as usual when I tried to approach her and tell her how I feel about her, I wound up tripping over my words and ended up making her mad.
Hermione had spent most of the day out near the pond, reading…avoiding me, really. I'd spent most of the day looking out the kitchen window, watching her and wishing the distance between us wasn't so great and that I could finally confess to her and, maybe, wind up with a happy ending.
The skies had been grey and gloomy all day, reflecting my mood really well, and then they opened up and let loose a downpour. I could see her down there, huddled under the tree, holding her book over her head trying to keep herself from getting soaked.
Without thinking, I raced into the sitting room, grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the door and then ran as fast as I could out into the garden. With my long legs, I made it down to her pretty quick, and offered her the umbrella as I stood there getting soaked by the summer shower. She stared at me looking dumbfounded for a few moments before she smirked and took the umbrella from me, opening it so we could make our way back to the house without getting any wetter.
I looked at myself and hung my head as I realized how stupid I'd been. What kind of an idiot runs out into a rainstorm carrying an umbrella but doesn't bother to use it? That's what she does to me. She turns me into a complete thickheaded fool. I kept quiet as we walked back to the Burrow. Even though I was the one who brought the umbrella, it was me that wound up soaked to the bone and spending a week in bed with a cold.
Harry makes his move, taking my queen with his knight. On any other night, I'd smile and whoop it up as I take my knight and checkmate his king; but tonight, my mind is really not on the game. I look over at Hermione as she rolls up seven feet of parchment and begin packing her stuff back into her bag. How she can fit so many huge textbooks into that one school bag is beyond me until I realize she's enchanted her bag to be larger on the inside than it is on the outside.
She truly is amazing. That sort of spell is difficult for full-blown adult wizards, and here she is, just a student, and able to perform magic well beyond what one would expect. Anyone who thinks that Muggle-borns have no right to practice magic is completely barmy. Hermione's more skilled than any ten pureblood wizards, and really, who couldn't fall in love with her for that reason alone?
She struggles to get her schoolbag over her shoulder and heads upstairs to the girl's dorm. I'm a bit hurt that she didn't even say 'good-night', but I reckon she's too mad at me. Harry notices me looking in the direction Hermione's just gone and he smirks at me, making me want to punch that smirk off his face.
"It's getting late; I'm heading up to bed. You coming, Ron?"
"Not just yet."
I'm really not tired…I'm exhausted. But it's not a physical exhaustion, it's emotional. I'm tired of not being able to tell Hermione how I feel; tired of keeping this secret inside for so long.
"Don't stay up too late; Quidditch practice tomorrow!"
I grunt an affirmative response to him, and go back to gazing out the window. I hear him walking up the steps to the boys' dorm, and just like that I'm all alone. My schoolbag is on the floor next to me, and I pull out some crumpled parchment. It's the beginning of a letter to Hermione, telling her how I feel about her.
I've got about a thousand of these in a box upstairs buried in the bottom of my trunk. I seem to start writing her every few days, but I never manage to finish the letter, let alone mail it to her. I re-read the letter and know right away that I'll never send this. I mean, I must have been completely mental when I wrote this. Who asks his best friend to marry him in a letter, when he hasn't even told her he loves her yet?! I ball up the parchment and shove it to the bottom of my schoolbag, intent on sticking it in the box in my trunk when I reach the dorm.
The silence in the common room starts to get to me, and I start to feel so very alone. Everyone's gone to bed, and no wonder…it's almost two in the morning. I get up and drag my schoolbag along behind me, heading for the stairs.
I stop at the table where Hermione was doing her homework. I can still smell her perfume in the air around the table and I just take a few moments to bask in her scent. Part of me wants to believe that's the perfume I got her for Christmas last year, but I doubt she'd ever wear that stuff. She called it 'unusual' when I gave it to her, and even though I'm supposed to be stupid, I know that means she didn't like it.
I'm about to continue on up the stairs when a piece of parchment on the floor catches my eye; I assume it's part of Hermione's homework, so I pick it up. She's going to come looking for it eventually, and I think she'd rather I held it for her, instead of taking the chance on it getting thrown out by someone.
I start to fold it up and stick it in my bag when I notice my name written on the paper. My eyes widen and I can't believe what I'm seeing.
Hermione G.
Loves
Ron W.
There's absolutely no doubt that it's Hermione's handwriting; I'd know that graceful script anywhere. I've spent the last six years copying her notes and homework when she'd allow it, all of them written in that beautiful cursive.
The parchment has been charmed; a heart suddenly appears around the script and then disappears moments later in a sort of firework effect, only to reform again and start all over. Hermione G. loves Ron W. As much as I want to believe it's me, I start running through the names of every student I can think of trying to come up with anybody else who could be Ron W; I come up empty, though, and can only conclude that it's me.
I smile broadly as I look down at the parchment. Even Hermione's lovesick scribblings are magical. She really is unlike any other girl…and she loves me. Bloody Hell!! She loves me! What am I going to do now?! Do I tell her I found her paper? I can't just give it to her now…she'll know I saw it! She'll think I was snooping! This will ruin EVERYTHING!
The sound of footsteps coming down the girls' staircase sends me into action. I shove the parchment down into my schoolbag and bolt for the boys' dorm. I'm not even on the second step, however, before she reaches the common room and calls out to me.
"You're not going to bed are you?"
"Err…well…you see…it's late."
I can't bring myself to look at her, so I keep my eyes focused on my beat-up old pair of trainers that are really a bit too small for my humongous feet.
"You weren't even going to say good-night?"
There's a hint of hurt in her voice, and I can't help but look up at her. I hate it when she's hurt, and I hate myself when I'm the cause of it. She looks crestfallen and I don't even think twice before I drop my bag and step down off the staircase.
"I thought you already went to bed."
"Oh. No, I just wanted to drop my books off in my room and change out of my uniform."
How clueless am I that I didn't even notice that she was wearing her pink dressing gown instead of the black school robes she'd had on all day? This is what Hermione Granger does to me; she makes it so I can't even notice different colors.
"I thought you were mad at me, so you went off without saying good-night."
I wonder if I sound as pathetic to her as I sound to myself…
"No, I'm not mad…I mean…I was…but…I thought you wanted me to play chess with you. You did win, right?"
"Of course."
For a second I smirk and sound cocky, and she rolls her eyes and smirks back, and all of a sudden the distance between us seems to shrink and I feel some courage come upon me.
"I'd rather sit and talk, if you don't mind."
She looks stunned when I tell her this, but she nods and makes her way to the couch by the fire. I follow her and sit at one end while she sits at the other. And just like that, the courage starts to fade and I find myself staring at the last dying embers of the fire.
"Ron…what did you want to talk about?"
I look up at her and my mouth starts to open and close again, looking like a bloody goldfish. She starts to frown as she recognizes this scene from earlier when I made her mess up her homework. Hermione looks like she's going to give me about another fifteen seconds before she heads off upstairs for good this time.
"Hermione…there's something I need to tell you…but I don't know how."
She looks confused, and a bit afraid. She reaches over and touches my leg to comfort me.
"You can tell me anything, Ron…just go ahead and say it."
I look over at my schoolbag where I dropped it by the stairs. It must've fallen over because one of my books and some parchment is lying on the floor next to it. I recognize the parchment…it's Hermione's…the one with the heart and our names and suddenly, the courage comes back. After all, she loves me, so what's to be afraid of?
"Hermione…I –…"
Author's End Notes: Okay, how big a dick am I that I ended the story right there? Come on, did you REALLY need to see Ron fall all over himself as he admits his undying love for Hermione? It's better this way. You can imagine your own ending. Maybe he says it, maybe he doesn't. That's the MAGIC of ending it like this. :-) I know...I'm a total prick.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. (See the kind of freedom I have when I'm not worrying about AFTERMATH anymore? Four stories posted in one week!!! Don't get used to that, though!!)
Review it if you want. Otherwise, I'll never know how much you hate the ending!!! :-D