Okay, so yes, this story has already been created. Don't flame me. I'm not a plagerizer, or however you spell that. If you didn't see my note, Fiery and Proud is my Harry Potter penname, but I can't access it, so I'm reposting on this account. I'm rewriting as I post, so this is the same Infatuated, just longer and (hopefully) better. Enjoy!
Harry Potter sat down to lunch at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, wondering where his two best friends were. He didn't have long to wait; Ron Weasley, his face as red as his hair, stormed into the Great Hall. He was clearly livid, and sat down forcefully across from Harry.
"What's—" Harry began, but Ron interrupted him.
"Hermione," Ron snapped, pounding his fist on the table. Harry flinched a little; he hadn't seen Ron this mad at Hermione Granger since third year, when he was convinced that Hermione new cat had eaten Ron's pet rat, Scabbers.
"What happened?" Harry asked, piling food onto his plate. Ron took a huge gulp of Pumpkin juice and slammed his goblet down before answering.
"She got mad at me because I burned that damn homework organizer. I told her it wouldn't shut the hell up, but she completely went off on me. She said I was irresponsible, always putting off my homework until the last minute, and if I didn't straighten up I'd end up unemployed!"
"But...she says that stuff all the time. Who cares?" Harry asked, confused. Ron's face deepened red and he looked down at his plate.
"She said...if I wasn't careful, I'd end up as poor as the rest of my family." Harry's jaw dropped.
"Ron, you know Hermione didn't mean that. Your family's not..."
"Poor?" Ron supplied. Harry nodded.
"...yeah, not because they don't work hard but because, well, your dad's not very high in ranking at the Ministry of Magic, and there are eleven of you. You'd have to be as rich as the Malfoys just to be considered 'well-off,'" Harry insisted. Ron's expression softened.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," he said, stabbing his fork into a potato a bit more vehemently than necessary. "It just...it really hit home, I guess."
"I bet she feels awful for sayng it. You know Hermione: when it comes to stuff like this, she gets a little...hysterical." Ron chuckled.
"Yeah. Oh, by the way, I wanted to talk to you about practice tonight," Ron began. He launched into a detailed explanation of some strategy tactic he'd figured out for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw. Harry wasn't completely paying attention; he was a little worried about Hermione. Harry was sure she felt completely awful for what she had said, and he didn't want her to be alone, thinking Ron was still mad.
Checking the doors of the Great Hall to see if Hermione had arrived, Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice. Normally sweet and mild, Harry's juice tasted bitter, sickly sweet and burned his throat as it went down. He was so shocked, he choked on it, and dropped his goblet.
"Harry? Are you alright?"
Harry's head snapped up and he stared into Ron's concerned eyes. Instantly, Harry forgot all about the juice, suddenly enamored with the beautiful sky color of Ron's eyes, how his freckles fell across his nose in just the right way, and how his mouth was perfectly shaped. Harry just wanted to reach out and trace that strong jawline with his fingertips...
With a start, Harry realized he was actually reaching toward Ron's face. He jumped up, nearly falling over the bench, and raced out of the Great Hall, ignoring Ron's surprised shout.
Desperate to find Hermione, Harry raced to the library. He slowed his speed only under the severe glare of Madam Pince, and hurried to a back corner table, where Hermione sat.
She had Hogwarts: a History open in front of her, but her teary red eyes were not focused on the page. She looked up at Harry, who was panting, trying to catch his breath.
"Come to yell at me?" she sniffed.
"What? No, I—"
"I already feel awful, Harry, so you don't need to make it worse! I said the most h-horrible things to him..." She began to tear up again.
"Hermione, I talked to Ron, and he's not mad at you anymore," Harry said impatiently. "But—"
"Really?" Hermione interrupted. "He said that?"
"Yes. I told him you didn't mean it, and that you just wanted the best for him, but Hermione—"
"You're sure? Because Ron likes to hold grudges, and he can be very harsh—" Hermione said, wiping her eyes.
"Yes. Just apologize, I'm sure everything will be fine. But Hermione, listen to me—"
"There you are!" Harry froze, feeling his cheeks warm as he turned around to face Ron, who looked completely confused.
"Harry, why did you run off like that?" he asked. Then he spotted Hermione. "Oh...Hi, Hermione."
"Ron, I'm so sorry. I never should have said that, I was totally out of line," Hermione burst out in a rush.
It's okay, Hermione. I'm sorry I burned that organizer," Ron said ruefully. "But you've got to admit, that voice is annoying."
"Well, you know, if you did your homework on time, you'd never hear that voice," Hermione lectured, packing up her books.
The three of them began walking to class. Harry was frustrated that Ron had shown up when he did. He wanted to talk to Hermione about this, but he definitely wasn't going to do it in front of Ron. Harry realized he was trailing behind and he quickened his pace, forcing himself not to check out Ron's butt.