Rating: T (for language, mostly)

Pairing: HG/RW and hinted at an HP/DM

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

P/N: Another old story, written shortly after "Christmas at the Burrow" about three or four years ago... The original title of the story was actually "Hermione Granger is a pain in the arse", but I thought it was a bit too provocative, so I changed it into a pun instead, haha. ;P Boy, I used a lot of Silencing Spells and veela remarks back then... I haven't read these stories for years, but I found that I still like them in some ways. I just love Harry's comments in the library... You'll see what I mean soon enough. ;) I hope you'll enjoy it! Please R&R! Your comments, reviews and constructive criticism help shape me into a better writer! :D Love, Piper

Brandy New Day

Hermione Granger is a pain in the arse, Hermione Granger is a pain in the arse, Hermione Granger is a pain in the arse..., he thought to himself; the same litany as the previous six years – and it never seemed to come to a stop! She always nagged about something! And during the past two or three years her constant nagging had been narrowed down to three favourite subjects; SPEW, school work, and rule-breaking. "Don't do this, don't do that," Ron Weasley muttered to himself as he stalked down the corridor with his Hogwarts robes billowing in his wake. "Think of the poor house-elves, Ronnie, don't eat the food, don't leave your dirty socks out on the floor, they don't like to clean up after you. My arse!" And this steady flow of angry ventilation continued all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, where he knew that she would be waiting for him to get another chance to tell him how stupid he was to have mixed up monkshood with sage, even though everybody knew that there was a slight resemblance between the two herbs. Oh, how he hated that obnoxious know-it-all!

Hardly had he set foot in the Gryffindor common room before she jumped him with her morals, unfortunately, and he had to flail wildly to get her off his robes. "Ron! Wheeeeere have you been? They have been looking for you for an hour – you were supposed to be at Quidditch practice at five, did you forget? You really should try to keep better track of these things, you know, or you will never be on time!" she was saying, holding on tightly to his sleeve to prevent him from running off to his dormitory. He wanted to shout To Hell with Quidditch practice! but that probably would have made her even more insistent and annoying. Blimey, her RP was really beginning to tire him! He would have grey hairs before the age of twenty!

"Ron, are you listening to me?" Hermione queried irritatedly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he muttered exhaustedly.

Hermione instantly turned crimson. "Oh, you are so annoying, Ron! Why won't you ever begin to take your future more seriously?! Trust me, you will wind up alone and cranky in some alley in the Muggle world if you don't quit this loser act of yours!"

It was the first time he had ever heard Hermione use the word "loser," which probably meant that she was dead furious with him. But he could not seem to care about it more than necessary. He just passed her – when he had finally succeeded to shake her off, that is – and stalked straight for the boys' dormitories. But before he reached the door she grabbed the back of his robes and pulled him back towards her. "Ron!" she roared. "Do not ignore me! You're coming to the library with me now, I am going to see to it that you study for Herbology tomorrow!"

"No, I won't! Let go of me!"

"You are supposed to write an essay on screeching screanolers and you don't even know the difference between monkshood and sage, for crying out loud!"

There it was. The mockery. The superiour tone that told anyone close enough to hear that she, Hermione Granger, was smarter than him, Ron Weasley, and that he would never stand a chance against her innumerable knowledge. Fury bubbled up from within Ron and compelled him to swirl around and grab Hermione by the shoulders. "You have no right to say that to me! I am smart too, you know, I just don't waste away my life buried in a thick book on ancient herbs and goblin riots – I have a life, bloody Hell! Now let me the fuck go to my dorm!"

She stared at him in shock for some three seconds, then she found her voice and screeched, "You can't say that – it's not grammatically correct!"

"Oh, the hell with grammar! This is not fucking grade school, Hermione! This is one of Europe's finest wizarding schools, damn it!"

"So start acting like you're attending it, then! All you do is lie around all day and do nothing! Shouldn't you be at least trying to get yourself through your seventh year?!"

People around them were staring at them in horror, as if they expected them to start cursing wildly around themselves. But they should have known that neither Ron nor Hermione ever resorted to wands. They solved their problems by having major rows and an occasional cat fight.

"Don't you think I am trying, Hermione?! Not everyone are as quick learners as you are – you have a gift! And yet you keep walking around here reminding all of us having a hard time learning just how stupid and retarded we are – well, thank you so much for that!"

His words finally seemed to sink in. Hermione stopped dead and just stared at him with a puzzled look on her face. Her frizzy hair stood on end. It actually looked kind of funny. In a small, insecure voice, she said, "Is that true? I do that?"

Ron felt the anger slowly draining from his shaking body. Still panting with frustration, he said, "Yes, you do, Hermione. And I'm not saying this because I don't like you, but as a friend. You're bloody smart, but you're also a bloody pain in the arse."

She gave a short, bitter laugh. "I guess you're right, Ron. Remind me whenever I do it again, will you? I don't want to be that person. I don't want to be like Malfoy."

Ron managed to smile. "Good for you, 'Minie. Now, what was that you said about the library?"

He tried to be nice, he really tried, reeeeeaaaaally tried – but it was impossible! Hermione succeeded to be her new, understanding self for five petty minutes before getting stuck in old habits and routines of mockery and reproach. Ron tried to focus on his studying, but it was like ignoring a game of Exploding Snap played on your head while you were sleeping. Eventually he ran out of patience and started to tell her to shut up – and so the quarrelling was on again. It did not exactly become better when Draco Malfoy showed up with his Charms books.

"Hello there, Hermione," he said most courtously and nodded towards her before sitting down three tables away.

Ron felt like he was going to explode. "What?! You're friends with him too?!" he yelled, and several people hushed them.

"Keep it down, Ron!" Hermione warned him. "No, I am not friends with him, I wouldn't even dream of being friends with that Slytherin, but by some reason he insists on saying hello whenever we're in the library at the same time. I don't know why and I don't intend to ask him, either."

Three tables down, Malfoy was watching them with an inquiring glint in his cold eyes.

"Why is he wearing his scarf inside? It's boiling in here."

Hermione looked up from her notes. "Who?"

"Malfoy, o'course! Who'd you think I was talkin' abou'?"

"Well, judging by your lovely mood it could as well have been Viktor," said Hermione acidicly.

"Krum?! I'm never talking about him again!"

"Come off it, Ron. You're just jealous."

"Jealous? My arse!"

"Shut up and do your homework."

"Yes, Mummy," he muttered childishly.

He gazed over at Malfoy again, could not help it. Still wondered why he was wearing his green-and-white Slytherin scarf inside. It looked awfully warm. Malfoy had dropped his Charms book and was staring absent-mindedly at something behind Ron. Ink was dripping from his half-lifted quill and left small circular spots on the sleeve of his saphire silk shirt. Ron could not help but feel a bit gleeful because one of Draco's expensive shirts was being ruined right in front of him. Then Malfoy gasped loudly and almost made Ron jump in his chair. The expression on the blonde's face was something inbetween awe, surprise, terror, and reverie. Ron knitted his eyebrows and turned in his seat. The only thing that Malfoy could be looking at that was in the right direction was no other than Harry Potter.

Ron shivered. That was creepy. Why was Malfoy staring at Harry like that?

Then he remembered where he was and why – Hermione! Finally someone had come to save him! "Oy, Harry!" cried Ron, and waved at the messy-haired figure. When he spotted them, Harry came over to their table. Ron confirmed that Draco was still staring at his raven-haired friend in that creepy sort of way, and said, "Harry, why is Malfoy staring at you like that? He looks totally perverted."

"Probably is," Hermione stated in a matter-of-fact fashion.

Harry lifted his gaze and spotted Draco only three tables away. To Ron's great surprise he just smirked slyly and said, "Let him watch, I know I'm handsome."

This statement even caught Hermione's precious attention.

"Mate, you sure are strange nowadays," Ron pointed out somewhat nervously.

"Well, it's no secret that Malfoy is obsessed with beating me. He's probably trying to use his whole two braincells to plan his avenge for my Wronski Feint yesterday."

The three friends laughed heartily. Over at the other table, Malfoy was turning greyish pink. Ron caught Harry mouthing something to his arch enemy. "What?"

Harry leaned in over the table. "Psychological warfare," he whispered theatrically, still with that sly smirk plastered on his face.

For the second time that evening, Ron shivered, but this time it was not Malfoy's insistent glaring that made him uneasy, but Harry. He had a notion that there was something else going on between the two of them than what Harry had claimed.

"Ron, homework," Hermione reminded him admonishingly.

Ron sighed with resignation. There just was no escaping her, was there?

Harry looked at something in the direction of the corridor, unconsciously tapping his right index finger on the surface of the table, then he straightened up and took a quick glance at his wrist watch. "No, better be going," he said to himself. Before leaving he turned to Ron and Hermione with a faint smile on his lips. "Be seeing you later." And he was off.

Ground down by disappointment, Ron realised that he would have to spend the night in Hermione's ever-so-annoying company. The hours snailed past, until she finally slammed her books shut and informed him that it was time to go to bed. There was no-one else in the library that late; even workaholic adrenaline-junkie Malfoy had left forty-five minutes earlier. On their way back up to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione's usual nagging grew worse than it had ever been before, and it took Ron all the effort and patience that he possessed not to hit her in the face with his school bag. He was just about to tell her just how annoying she was when something caught his eye. Glinting in the dim lights of the corridor was a half-empty bottle. He stopped dead in his tracks. Hermione was already going up the next flight of stairs, going on about SPEW and all her long-term aims, so Ron stooped down and picked up the bottle. Brandy. Who had left that out?

Snape? The thought made Ron chuckle on the inside. Snape posing as a drunk... yeah, that would suit him. Too bad it was not true. Ron glanced around the corridor to see if anyone was in sight, but the school lay deserted at the midnight hour. He put the bottle in the left inside pocket of his Hogwarts robes and continued up the stairs.

Hermione was waiting for him on the fourth floor. "Where did you go to?" she asked irritatedly.

Ron immediately knew what he had to do. Grunting silently to himself, he followed her to their common room. "Would you mind helpig me with just another question, 'Minie?" he begged to prevent her from going up to her dorm.

With an indignant look on her face, Hermione moaned, rubbing her eyes. "Oh, all right, but just one, okay? I'm beat."

Ron tried hard not to laugh out loud. "Brilliant. I just need some water first, wait here. Can I get you anything?"

She hesitated for a while. Then, "Okay, water then."

He turned his back to her and pulled out the brandy bottle. Swiftly he stirred his wand in the air and made two deep mugs of water appear in front of him. He poured some of the brandy in one. Satisfied with the homemade brew, he discarded the bottle and gave the spiked drink to Hermione. She drank it all in five quick swallows. Did not even notice any difference in the taste. Ron suckled on his. Feeling quite cheery, actually.

Soon, he thought with delight, soon she'll be tipsy.

And he did not have to wait long. Suddenly Hermione lost her balance and fell out of her chair, laughing hysterically. "Did yu see dat, Wonnie?" she asked, slurring heavily. "Did yu see me fawl?" And then that girlish giggle again. Ron had gotten her drunk to teach her a lesson, to play around with her and annoy her the way she always annoyed him, but now he realised that she annoyed him even more in this state and all he wanted was for her to shut up. She would wake the whole house. Panicking, he pulled out his wand and yelled, "Silencio!" She became mute immediately. Great, now what? he thought gloomily.

She did not seem to notice that she no longer made any audible sounds, but continued to giggle her guts out – figuratively speaking, of course. Panicking even more when he saw that Hermione was starting to gag on something, he undid the Silencing Spell and kneeled at her side. "'Minie, are you okay?" he asked anxiously, taking hold of her arm.

"Yezzz, I'm fine," she slurred. He tried to help her up on her feet. "Oh, Wonnie, do you know dat yu are the most adorable bloke dat exists?"

Ron stiffened. "What?" How long had he waited to hear those exact words?

She clung to him and started to nibble at his earlobe. "You're hot, what d'yu say we go upstairs and get it on?"

Ron just stared at her with terror. Where the bloody Hell had she learnt to speak like that? This was not his Hermione – this was a veela! And however much he craved to take advantage of the situation, he could not be such a jerk. That would turn him into Malfoy – drewling over Harry like that, spilling ink all over his expensive silk shirt...

"Wonnie, take me to bed," Hermione was whispering invitingly in his ear.

"Well, I... I... Er..."

She pinched his buttocks.

"Iiih!" he screamed, half terrified by her straight-forward manner. "Hermione, don't you think that—"

"Noooo! Just take me to bed."

"Oh, all right... if you say so..." He lifted her off the floor and carried her up to his dorm, silently praying that she would keep quiet and not wake Harry or the others. He put her in the bed, wrapping her in his down quilt, and registered that Harry in fact was not in bed yet. Where could he be at one in the morning?

"Ron..." Hermione murmured as he lay down next to her, snuggling up right next to him. Blimey, she was warm! And soft... "I love you, Ron." Then she fell right asleep, snoring like a pig.

Ron stared at her in disbelief. Loved? Was it the truth or just the liquor speaking? He did not dare get his hopes up, but maybe... Maybe...

With a sigh, he turned to face the window. "Goodnight, Hermione. You'll feel better in the morning. I'm sorry to have put you through this."

The very next morning Ron was awakened by a screech and flew up from the bed in a blind panic, dead sure that there was a bomb beneath it. "What happened?" he asked still half-asleep before recognising Hermione next to him. "Oh," he said as he remembered the night before.

She scrambled out of his messy bed. "What am I doing in your bed?!" she demanded harshly.

Ron quickly searched his memory for the stuff called words. "Er... I... You were not feeling well, so I..."

"So you decided to take advantage of the situation?! Really, Ron, I know you're a bit dimwitted sometimes, but I never thought anything like this of you!"

"But, Hermione, you don't understand! You were drunk, and you couldn't take care of yourself, and I'm a bloke so I can't get up to the girls' dormitories but you were acting so strange and I didn't want to just leave you there on the floor, so I helped you up here so you could at least get some sleep and feel better."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You... you did that for me?"

"Yeah, 'course. You're my friend, right?"

"But how could I get drunk?"

"Er, I don't know..."

She shifted her feet nervously.

"You think anyone else saw us?" she asked anxiously.

Ron felt as if his heart had just been pierced by a spear. She was afraid that anyone would see them together. She was embarrassed by him. "Er, no," he said, his heart sinking. "I closed the curtain..."

Hermione could never love anyone like him.

She sighed with relief. "I didn't say anything embarrassing, did I?"

Ron thought about her last comment before falling asleep: "I love you, Ron..."

But he slowly shook his head. "No."

"Good." She shrugged lightly and left the room.

Ron sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling weak and depressed. His whole world had collapsed in just two seconds. He did not feel like going down to breakfast that day.

Porridge could not make up for a broken heart.