(This was originally titled "An Unfortunate Lack of Writer's Block" but it just really bothered me and didn't make sense. So I changed it.)
A/N: Ok I'm not even sure this one makes sense. It's my attempt at being funny but it may have just come out as a jumbled mess of something that made perfect sense in my head, but turns into word vomit when typed out…at any rate, let me know what you think, especially if you're terribly confused!
Also I do not own Hermione or Ron or Harry or any part of the brilliance that is Harry Potter.
Doodles
"And another thing! That photo of me in my Yule Ball gown? The one with Viktor? The one hanging in your room? Yes, I know about that. I understand it's completely out of character for me to be wearing a dress and you boys probably just love getting a good laugh out of it on top of you muttering angry threats to the Viktor under your breath, yes I know about that too, but if you could please refrain from decorating your wall with it? Or at the very least, take the darts out of it? That's be just splendid, and just what on earth is so bloody funny, Harry?" Harry, previously verging on rolling off the common room couch, sobered up quickly at the uncharacteristic language usage along with the downright murderous look on Hermione's face. *WHACK* Ron's hand connected with the back of Harry's head as he gave him a glare of his own. He brought his attention back to the argument.
"Well that's...that's just...just so not what we were even discussing!" Ron finished cleverly, his face now the color of Voldemort at the beach without sunscreen. In truth, Ron kept half that picture for his own personal viewing pleasure. And the other half was just fantastic target practice. The darts were only in Viktor's head, after all.
"I'm sorry, you're right Ron. Let's get back to it, shall we? Give. Me. My. Notes. Back. I lent them to you for one day. I made that extremely clear. We've all been sitting in the common room doing homework for hours! The fact that you were even too lazy to even copy my Potions notes during that time is really none of my concern."
"It was clearly a bit hard for him to focus on the papers when his eyes were a little preoccupied elsewhere," Harry muttered, eyes twinkling. *WHACK* Ron's hand again.
"I…" Ron began. What could he do? God knows, he certainly couldn't give them back. Not after what he'd done to them! That'd be suicide! It was a complete accident anyway. He just hadn't been thinking! He'd just let his mind get a little distracted and unfortunately that's when his quill tended to listen the best and most relentlessly.
"I don't have them?" he tried, hoping he'd made the right call. Come to think of it, she'd probably kill him this way too, but at least he'd die with dignity! It'd be awfully unfortunate to be killed feeling embarrassed and humiliated. Fred and George would never let his grave hear the end of it!
"Well where are they, Ronald?" She spoke quietly now, her voice low and menacing. Her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity. Ron's heart skipped a beat. Damn her. It was awfully hard to throw angry comments and threats at someone who was only becoming more and more attractive to him by the second as her anger grew. Hell, if she started breathing fire he may have to have Harry physically restrain him from physically pouncing on her mouth. This was bad.
"They're...umm...Crookshanks ate them?" Your cat ate your homework. Inspired answer, Ronald. Just bloody brilliant. That's when she slapped him. Granted, not hard enough to do any real damage, but he'd bet his cheek would sting for a while after.
"No wonder Malfoy ran off crying in third year," Harry marveled, letting out a low whistle and a brief second of appreciation. *WHACK*
"For God sakes, Ronald, how dumb do you think I am? I am not called the brightest witch of my age for nothing! Show a little respect, will you? If not for me, if you really don't care about my feelings enough to do it for me, at least give yourself more credit than that. I've heard you mutter better excuses in your sleep. Now dammit Ron, where are the bloody notes?"
"ALRIGHT!" he roared, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out her crumpled up Potions notes and shoving them into her outstretched hand, purely in an attempt to shut her up! He sunk down onto the couch next to Harry who's eyes were glued to the scene. Realizing with disappointment that the entertainment had ended, he turned to Ron.
"Great show, mate, really. One of your best performances. Though the last line seemed a little forced. Didn't quite believe you. You really need to work on your delivery. Better luck next time…" he snickered. *WHACK* Ron then dropped his head in his hands.
"Ron," Hermione said softly, not looking up from her intense examination of her papers. "Why is MY last name...erm...crossed out?" She held up a paper now titled with the name 'Hermione Weasley' printed messily at the top in Ron's scrawl. Harry leaned forward to have a look himself. He smirked.
"Those are really pretty hearts, mate." *WHACK*
Short, yes. I like one-shots. A lot.
Thoughts?
