"OW! Ow ow ow ow ow ow! My god, Hermione! Could you please be a little more careful with that?" Ron pleaded, rubbing his arm gingerly, "I think it might be incurable." He watched nervously as the young witch prodded the yellow-green scales on his arm. Nothing was happening.
"Oh, don't be silly, Ron. You're arm will be fine... I just have to find the correct countercurse." Hermione sighed, flipping through the large tome in front of her. Ron looked at her with a hurt expression, which melted into a grin as she looked up at him.
"What?" she said, trying hard not to smile back at him.
"Nothing, nothing. You just find that cure. This stuff is spreading!"
"Nonsense. The fishscale curse doesn't spread. It's all in your mind."
"Well, I want it out of my mind and off of my skin." Hermione flipped through a few more chapters.
"I'm really not finding anything helpful, Ron. Maybe we should just go to your mum and ask her for help."
"And admit defeat to Fred and George? Never. I'd never live it down if I went whining to Mum."
"Fine then, but I can't help you. There's just nothing in these books, and we don't have access to any others. You're just going to have to leave them there." Hermione moved to gather up the books.
"Oh,
come on Hermione. There must be something you can do. Anything?"
Without warning, Hermione pulled Ron toward her and kissed him. Then
she pulled away for a second and said breathlessly,
"I can
make you forget they're even there."