Ron rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and tried, again, to focus on his bowtruckle feeding habits essay, but there was no help for it. He was knackered.
Fifth year was turning out to be complete rubbish and they were only in the second week.
The workload was unbelievable. Fred and George had warned him that O.W.L year was hell, but he hadn't realized it would be this bad straight out of the gate.
Then there was quidditch, which was brilliant and all, but he just couldn't seem to get his nerves under control. Everything was fine when he was one-on-one, but he knew he'd eventually have to play in front of people. People, as in, the entire school. The thought made his stomach drop.
Then there was Harry.
Ron sighed and leaned back on the sofa, his weary eyes sliding closed as he lay his head against the cushions. Harry had been like a restless volcano ever since this summer, constantly spewing steam. Ron wasn't so worried about that part, after all, Harry had plenty of reasons to be pissed off these days didn't he? Plus, he could usually turn him back around fast enough.
It was the obvious eruption that volcanoes built up to that had him watching his friend with wary eyes more and more these days. A bloke can't be under that much pressure and not eventually blow. When he did, Ron was fairly sure it wasn't gonna be pretty.
"He's still not back?"
Ron's eyes fluttered open to see Hermione standing in front of the fire, a bowl in her hands and a scowl on her face. The light from the embers backlit her, making her hair glow with red and gold and chocolate hues all around her head. His stomach did a little flip floppy thing.
Oh yeah, then there was the weirdest thing of all about fifth year. The fact that he'd randomly feel like he'd taken a stunning spell to the chest around Hermione.
It happened all the time and without any real reason that he could suss out. Like, they'd be sitting close so she could help him with his homework and he'd catch himself smelling her hair like a pervy git. Or he and Harry would be playing chess and suddenly Harry would clear his throat to get his attention back because he'd be lost staring at her curled up and sleeping in the chair beside them.
Even more confusing was when he'd feel that wobble in his stomach when they rowed. Her cheeks would be pink and her eyes would be flashing and her curls would be suspended all around her fierce, tiny face and his mind would be right there in the middle of their fight while his legs were steadily losing feeling.
And he didn't even want to get started on the dreams.
If he was being honest, those had started in fourth year, maybe even third, but it seemed like they were picking up steam now. A couple subconscious kisses with someone he spent most of his time with was something he could brush off. But they'd gotten much more creative this year.
He didn't understand it all all. It wasn't as if she was dancing around the common room starkers all day, shooting him come hither looks.
Which he pictured for a second and immediately felt his traitorous body start to respond. Bloody hell.
"Ron, did you hear me?"
Sitting up, Ron rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and hoped the redness he could feel in his ears wasn't obvious in the low fire light. "It's only just midnight. He's usually back a bit after."
Hermione sniffed in irritation and walked over to the sofa, flopping down on the cushion beside him. Her hair flew up around her face in a wild cloud of tendrils at the action and she wriggled a bit to settle in, brushing her thigh up and down a few times against his own as she did.
He clenched his jaw, his eyes falling to her slightly scowling mouth. He watched as she slowly pulled her bottom lip in to worry it between her teeth.
If she didn't knock that off, the redness in his ears would be the least thing he'd have to worry about hiding.
"What is it?"
His eyes snapped from her mouth to her eyes and he realized that she'd caught him staring. Shit.
"Erm, what's in the bowl?" His cheeks were burning, but thankfully, Hermione seemed so agitated and preoccupied that she didn't appear to notice.
"Essence of murtlap tentacles."
Ron's eyebrows lowered in confusion, but if he'd expected Hermione to explain further he was disappointed because her next statement only confused him more.
"Ron, we've got to do something about her."
"Who? The murtlap?"
She rolled her eyes as if her meaning couldn't have been more obvious - the way she was prone to do when she'd jumped ahead of everyone else and couldn't figure out how they could still be three steps behind. It was infuriating.
And also the cause for tingles to run through his body lately. Sweet Merlin, maybe he was going mad?
"No, Umbridge. Obviously."
Ron smirked. "Oh yeah, obviously."
She was in such a lather that she outright ignored his teasing tone, her words coming out so fast that they nearly sounded like one long word. "She can't get away with what she's doing to Harry. To this school! She's trying to strip away all of the autonomy that Hogwarts has so Fudge can continue trying to brainwash the entirety of the wizarding community, not to mention what Sirius said about her track record with non-human and part-human beings, all while she's acting outside of the law she's claiming to represent or any rules of human decency in the process. We can't stand by and watch this happen."
Ron felt his lips quirk into a sideways smile. She was at her best when she was righteously indignant. "I suppose we could turn her into a beetle and keep her in a jar. Of course, a beetle might not be the best fit for her. A toad maybe?"
Hermione stared at him, her expression still rife with seriousness, but her eyes showed the barest ghost of amusement.
"We could make her a little pond with some lily pads and gag-worthy pink flowers to trounce around on."
The ghost of a smile spread from her eyes to the very corners of her lips.
"D'you think she'd still do that annoying cough thing she does as a toad? You know, like, 'hem hem, ribbit.'"
Clearly the mental picture of that, paired with his spot on impression, was enough to coax a laugh out of her and Ron's lopsided smirk went to a full face grin as the sound sent ripples of pleasure through his entire body.
He got such a rush out of being able to make her laugh, especially when she was fixated on something. The sound of it always made his heart pick up just a little in his chest.
Still chuckling, she shook her head. "Ron, I'm serious."
His eyebrows rose in a fairly passable expression of sincerity. "So am I. Okay, so maybe keeping her as a toad is a bit extreme." He paused for a moment, nodding as if he'd come to the only logical conclusion. "I guess that just leaves us with poisoning."
Hermione guffawed, the murtlap essence she'd yet to explain sloshing gently in the bowl she still held in her lap.
"Are you gonna tell me what that's all about?"
She looked down at the bowl he was gesturing toward in her lap, her smile dimming.
"It eases pain and aids in healing. I thought Harry would probably need it."
Ron felt the levity of the moment fading away, a rush of emotions wending their way through him in its wake. Foremost among them was concern for Harry, followed by outrage at the woman torturing him, literally, as they spoke.
There was also the very tiny, razor thin string of something else. Something ugly, that whispered words of uncertainty and pain at the clear distress in her eyes over their friend. The fretful tone of her voice.
Would she be this worried if it were me being tortured?
Would she be sitting up after midnight to wait for me with a bowl of murtlap tentacles?
He knew she would. Deep down, on a fundamental level, he knew it. Hermione Granger cared about the people who mattered to her and she'd stop at nothing, not even expulsion worthy acts, to ensure their well being. It was one of the things that made him actually start liking her back in first year.
One of the things he liked best about her.
One of the things he lo-
"Harry!"
Turning his head, he saw his friend make his way through the portrait hole, his hand wrapped in a scarf dripping with blood, and his train of thought was lost.