Author's Note: The characters of this story and the realm in which they dwell are entirely the creation of one J.K.Rowling.
"Ron, are you listening to me?" Hermione asked me, while passing a brightly coloured candy on a stick (or so I guessed) to Harry.
No, I'm admiring your body. It's quite stunning actually.
"Sorry?" I said, instead while trying to tear my eyes away from her breasts before she or Harry noticed. The latter was sporting a suspiciously evil smile though. "What did you just say?"
Hermione gave a huff and a 'Why do I even try?' roll of her eyes and asked again. "Doo . . . yoouu . . . want . . . a lollipop?" she said, sounding out every syllable. "A lollipop, Ron. The thing that I have been telling you about for a good ten minutes, even though you obviously haven't listened to a word of my description at all." She said this very fast and with obvious annoyance, while waving one of those ball thingy's that she had given to Harry, in front of my face.
"Uh, sure, and what is it exactly?" I asked.
Hermione gave a sigh of frustration and explained again what a lollipop was while Harry grinned annoyingly, with the candy hanging out of his mouth, and went back to our game of wizard's chess. He had been watching the proceedings with avid curiosity and apparent amusement. Ten minutes later, Hermione was finally finished speaking about the fascinating (note the sarcasm) making and history of the thing known as a lollipop. I woke myself up enough to say "Uh . . . that sounds great." The sentence coming out just slightly breathless as I had indeed been staring once more and my arousal was becoming more prominent. Hermione frowned a bit and handed the candy over. I unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it in my mouth.
It was sweet and lime flavoured, and just my kind of candy.
I wonder if she's just as sweet. Maybe she tastes like limes too. Uh oh . . . down boy . . . down I say . . . or there shall be severe punishment . . . please?
Little Wilbur (yes I have named him) seemed to take pity on me since my pants no longer felt as tight as before, and normal conversation could resume.
"It's not bad for a muggle candy."
Hermione gave me a slight smile, blissfully unaware of the thoughts that were racing through my head, and bent over her work.
Uh oh, I see trouble ahead for us, Wilbur. I can see down her shirt. This is not good.
I forced my eyes away from the beautiful sight that was Hermione, and tried to concentrate on the game I was supposed to playing with Harry. I carelessly moved my Knight toward Harry's Queen, and the poor unsuspecting thing ended up getting flattened. The smile that Harry gave me though, was not a, 'I just killed your kniiight, naner naner boogers', type of smile (though there definitely was some of that in there). No it was a smile that only men can share, it says plainly, that the bloke offering the smile has been in your position, and understands the restraint you are exercising, but he finds it damn funny, and is having a hard time not laughing out loud.
Oh, well, at least Harry understands me . . . but how? Whose shirt has he not looked under recently? Is he talking about Ginny? OH MY GOD! That's my sister, you pervy carrot top lover! You keep your sticky hands off her and your wandering toady eyes on the floor. Anything but my sister's breasts. Wait a minute . . . Ginny has breasts? OH MY GOD!
I looked over at Hermione, and saw that she was watching me with an odd look on her face. She seemed to think I had gone barmy, since I had been starring daggers at Harry's bent, oblivious head as he moved his bishop to threaten my rook, and then been staring wildy around for Ginny, to confirm the rumour that she now had breasts (a true rumour as it were) and then suspiciously around the rest of the room once more to see if any people of the male persuasion were admiring my baby sister's chest.
With possessive thoughts in my head, I trounced Harry in chess, and felt particularly smug about it. That will show him. Looking at my sister that way, he should be ashamed.
"Alright guys, I'm going up to bed." Hermione informed us. All thoughts of Harry and my sister quickly flew away. Instead, an image of Hermione in a short sheer night dress lying on her bed, propped up by pillows and wearing a sexy smile filled my head. I could tell Wilbur was going to be restless tonight.
A dazed expression had filled my face and eyes. Hermione was giving me her concerned look again, and Harry, the good sister-stealing friend that he is, helped salvage the situation by dragging Hermione's attention onto him.
"Night Hermione. We'll see you tomorrow morning. We're gonna go upstairs now too, aren't we Ron?" Harry asked.
Lost in my thought's as I was, a coherent answer was not expected or given. "Upstairs . . . uhhh . . . ya . . . night Mione." I mumbled out, in a drunken state, that was only heard (thank god) by Harry.
"What did he just say?"
"Umm, something about being so tired, he can't even talk." Harry answered, quite saving the day. I would have to thank him after, maybe a gift of some sort. Oh, I got it! He, and only he, can have my permission to look at Ginny's breasts for a full day. I could even write out an IOU of sorts. It could read, 'One, Harry Potter has sister staring rights for one whole day to be used on any day of his choice.' Ya, that should do it.
"Alright then, I'll see you tomorrow." she said while turning around and walking up the stairs to her dormitory.
That's only if I survive tonight. Little Willy is a little restless at the moment. Oh dear, it's going to be a long night indeed.
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
My alarms annoying buzzing woke me up at seven o'clock. Such an ungodly hour it is. The light is just coming up and is magnified to about three times it's natural brightness. I swear it's that way just to annoy sleep deprived teenagers such as myself.
I hadn't fallen asleep until two o'clock last night, and five hours of sleep was not my idea of well rested. After grumbling a bit, I got myself up and dragged my way to the showers. On that journey, I made a pit stop to yank Seamus' pillow out from under his head and whack him with it a few times to make sure he was awake. If I had to be up, then so did everyone else, and since Seamus was notorious in the tower for snoring and keeping everyone else awake while he was not, I thought it poetic justice of sorts. Besides it made me feel better that I wouldn't be the only one to have his day start off on the wrong side of the bed.
Oh bed! How I miss you so. Your warm fluffy blankets, comfy cozy pillows and safe curtains that block out the rest of the world. Well not THAT safe I guess. Sirius didn't seem to have a problem in getting to me with that knife.
After reaching the showers, I quickly grabbed a towel, and walked over to the nearest stall. After getting out of my pyjamas, I turned on the tap and stepped into the pulsing stream of water. It came out warm and hard, beating on the muscles of my shoulders and back.
I wonder if Hermione can give massages. Hmm...how would that go?
Hermione's small hands crept up to my shoulders. They were making slow, lazy circles on my skin and around my muscles, finding all the right places.
"Hmm, Ron, your tense." Hermione said in my mind. Her voice sexy and almost purring, putting extra emphasis on the last word she had spoken. Stepping closer to me in my day dream, I could almost feel her press herself up against me, the seductive curve and swell of her breasts and waist pressed flush against my back...
The loud sound of a person tripping and dropping all that he was carrying caused Ron to snap out of his day dream. A loud laugh, cheer and voice announcing 'That's number one!" told Ron that the person who had fallen was Neville since the boys of Gryffindor Dorm 6 (mostly Seamus) had taken to keeping a tally of all the times that Neville tripped or fell each day, seeing if he could beat the record of 37 times on November 13, two weeks previous.
Oh yes, the day has definitely begun.