The Epidemic
It was hopeless. At the rate he was working now, he'd never finish his homework on time. He hated it when he got lost in his own thoughts…occasionally, he'd find himself getting lost deeper and deeper into a cloud of his own thoughts, and he'd find himself a bit creeped out.
As mush as he hated to admit it, Hermione was definitely rubbing off on him. Not that it had to be a bad thing, but no matter how deep he dug in his own mind, Ron just couldn't find where the source of these odd thoughts. They were practically all he ever thought about lately. Love…what the bloody hell was it, exactly?
Maybe it was a diagnosis of some sort. Ron snorted as the thought of him at St. Mungo's getting diagnosed with love came to mind… "Yes, Mr. Weasley, I'm afraid we have bad news…the exams have proven positive…you have a nasty case of love. This is one of the rarest cases we've ever seen. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do.
Not that it would be an absolutely horrible diagnosis, Hermione WAS a wonderful person, and he supposed that if you were gonna fall in love, it was the only way to do it.
Or perhaps it was a prescription. Maybe it was prescribed to a person who was depressed, or just had to, as they say, ''get away from it all''. If that were the case, Harry could definitely do with a little dose of love. HELL, who was he kidding, Harry needed an overdose.
Was it possible that love was a bug of some sort? An annoying, pestering insect that just wouldn't leave you alone. If that truly were what love was, he hoped against all hope that it didn't look anything like a spider. Then he'd be afraid of love. Anyway, he knew it sounded horribly cliché, but the evidence fit fairly decently, didn't it? You get bitten by a mosquito and there's an itchy spot that you can never completely satisfy unless you tear the skin. You get bitten by a tick and the possibility of lyme disease is greater…much like the possibility of love getting passed from person to person by an annoying insect.
MAYBE IT WAS A BLOODY EPIDEMIC! Ron found himself rolling his eyes at his random thoughts. He could just hear Hermione's voice: You're hopeless, Ronald.
Or maybe love was just a feeling…some sort of state of the mind and heart. Like the way he felt when she walked into the room…the world seemed to press the pause button on its own little muggle remote. Or how he felt when a stray coil of her honey colored hair fell into her eyes, or when her eyes lit up with excitement when she had just read a new book or learned a new charm (which he wondered if it was possible' she already seemed to know every one out there). Or the peace of mind he felt after being with her…
At this point, all of these seemed possible. Suddenly, it was as though his mind's wand had cast Lumos. It had finally occurred to him…Hermione Jane Granger had been bitten by a love bug, and it had carried the disease to Ronald Bilius Weasley…and there was not a prescription in the world that could cure the feeling in his heart and mind. It WAS an epidemic, after all!
He smirked at his own conclusion, nodded to himself and shut his potions book. You've outdone yourself, Weasley.