Stupid Prat
By: TheRowlingPierceWriter
Disclaimer:
Fluffy like a bunny
Ron and Hermione honey
It all belongs to JK
So don't kick my booty!
"Hermione?" Ron leaned tentatively over his friends' shoulder, anticipating a response. The girl continued to read an aged, tattered volume entitled The Witching Revolution: What We Were Doing While Muggles Built Their Train Tracks. She showed no sign of hearing Ron at all. Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Hermione," he said again. This time the girl in question reacted. She turned to Harry, who sat innocently on her left, and spoke:
"Harry, did you know that in the nineteenth century, some advanced wizards were already experimenting with undetectable torture spells?" Her tone cut through Ron like a knife, and he presently sat down again, abandoning his mother-like perch above Hermione's shoulder. Harry, who has been apprised of the ill feeling between his two best friends, said nothing. He didn't want to fuel their spat any more than it already was. Hermione understood, and said naught more to her black-haired companion. Instead, she inflexibly read her book while Ron fumed a chair away, breaking up his brussel sprouts into tiny little pieces. Harry ate blandly, too aware of the moot point in their relationship.
Flashback
"I need to talk to you." Ron offered to Hermione. She was scrambling through her bookbag, hunting for her Potions essay. She discerned Ron impatiently, papers in her hands and quills tucked neatly behind both of her ears. Ron hesitated. "The thing is, Hermione…" he began. She nodded, but did not respond, her hands still fumbling with the far corners of her bookbag for her essay. "Wow, I mean, Herm, it's just that…" Ron trailed off again. They were walking down a near-deserted Charms corridor, and Ron cut her short, halting them together. "This is really hard to say." Ron stuttered. Hermione was growing more disquieted by the minute. She dropped a Transfiguration textbook to the floor and shoved a lock of bushy hair out of her eyes. Ron gulped.
In the next moment, several things happened at once. Ron started with, "I want to tell you that-", and was interrupted instantaneously by Hermione's tired, "Get off it, Ron, why are you acting so-", upon which time Ron forged ahead, "that I like you." Hermione froze. Together, everything she held in her arms-a collapsible cauldron, her wand, and two jars of Sneekley's Believe-It-Or-Not Brew Thinner, exploded to the floor. Hermione threw her hands above her head in what Ron hoped would become an embrace. It did not.
"RON! Ron, you stupid prat, how COULD you? You have some nerve, Ronald Weasley!" She screamed, eyes filling up with tears of rage and triste. Ron, poleaxed, stared helplessly on. Hermione continued to rant. "D'you know what you've done-oh! Oh!" She left her school things lying haphazardly across the hall and dashed away from Ron.
End Flashback
Hermione sat blandly on her bed, contemplating the many ways to make herself invisible before having to face Ron again. There was running away…but no; Hermione hadn't taken the final exams yet. That would be a waste of a whole year. She could always give herself magical plastic surgery and pretend to be an exchange student from Haiti, or…
"Hermione, have you got any silver eye shadow?" Lavender's bubbly voice shattered Hermione's complex thoughts. She looked up at Lavender, who stood at the foot of Hermione's bed.
"No." She replied, distracted. Vaguely she wondered why Lavender would ask Hermione for such a frivolous, girly item when she knew full well that Hermione carried nothing of the sort.
"All right, then." Lavender began to turn around, but stopped short of herself and fixed Hermione with a piercing gaze. "What's with you lately?" She bluntly asked.
"Nothing." Hermione said, sullenly and with more force than she had intended. Lavender's mascared eyes widened with surprise.
"Geez." She remarked.
Hermione lay back on her bed moodily and closed her curtains. She didn't really want to think of Ron, and yet there was no way of getting around it. Hermione was mad at him, and he didn't know why, and the fact that he didn't know why ("Prat that he is," Hermione mumbled under her breath) caused Hermione to get even madder. Five years! She thought. Five years, and now, NOW, he gets the idea! Hermione, frazzled, closed her eyes and willed for sleep to come.
Ron approached Harry with caution. Ron did not wish for Harry to become involved in his fray with Hermione, although Ron needed his advice. "Harry?" He called out provisionally. He was rewarded by the sight of a messy, dark-haired head emerging from the abyss of deep armchairs.
"What is it?" Harry said, walking toward Ron with a weary expression.
"I need your help." Ron explained guiltily. He was all too aware of the stony gaze Hermione was pretending not to give him a few couches away.
"All right." Harry agreed, gamely. Ron smiled. In a lower tone, he said to Harry:
"Why is Hermione mad at me?"
Hearing this, Harry threw up his hands in despair. He scrambled for words to describe his anger, and settled on, "You really ARE a stupid prat!"
Ron experienced a very strong feeling of dejä vous. He also experienced a weaker feeling of anger, because he did not believe Harry had reason to be disappointed, or worse, mad at him. He also experienced an even weaker feeling of embarrassment: at the sound of Harry's chastising tone, every head in the Gryffindor Common Room had turned, and was now watching him intently. Stronger than all of these feelings, however, was a sudden and urgent craving for Fruit Loops. Ron pushed aside the Fruit Loop hankering and, though he did not realize it at the time, inadvertently banished his humility as well. He addressed Harry. "What d'you mean?" He demanded.
Harry had gone very red in the face. Ginny was running toward Harry, grabbing him by the arm and trying to drag him away from Ron, albeit to no avail. Harry stared rigidly at Ron. "I mean," he said, voice shaking with animosity, "that you are the most daft, most slow, most inexplicably dumb person I have ever-"
At this point, Neville had grabbed onto Harry as well, and, working as a team, Ginny and Neville managed to pull him backward. Harry relented and Ron seized the moment to make a cowardly escape from the Common Room.
~Ron's POV~
This is my mental list of all the things I wish I had at the current moment-
An understanding of why Hermione and Harry are mad at me
An understanding of why I like Hermione
An understanding of why God would make me like Hermione-I mean, hello God, this is HERMIONE, remember?
Fruit Loops?!?!
Flashback
"Now, Ron, I understand that you have come to me seeking to be relieved from… what is it that you suffer from again?" The psychiatrist asked. Ron shifted uneasily.
"I have trouble with confrontations." He said finally, his ears turning an excellent shade of pink.
"Ah, I understand." The psychiatrist was about fifty years old, balding, and psychiatrist-resplendent in a white lab coat. He spoke quietly, analyzing Ron. Ron, never comfortable under a scrutinizing gaze, kept glancing from side to side. "I believe I can help you." The psychiatrist concluded, smiling a thin-lipped smile. Ron breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are you going to do?" Ron inquired.
"I will hypnotize you. I promise that your fear of-how did you put it?-confrontation, will wane when I am through." Ron shivered. He was well accustomed to magic, but hypnotizing? "I see that you are uncomfortable. Do not be." The psychiatrist, named Dr. Carl Coccia, read Ron's mind. Dr. Coccia then leaned over the ultramahogany desk separating Ron and himself and spoke quietly into Ron's ear.
"I am going to put you into hypnotic slumber. When I do so, you will not be able to consciously hear or comprehend what I am saying. When I bring you back from the slumber, you will have the power to forever cure your confrontation problems." Ron nodded dolefully. The doctor sat down in his seat and stared Ron levelly in the eyes. "Relax." He said. "Take deep breaths. Don't think of anything except your breathing. Yes, good." Ron obeyed, his eyelids beginning to droop. "When I count to three, you will fall asleep. Still concentrating on your breathing? All right. One," Ron's ears were roaring. "Two," Ron stooped. "Three." Ron was deeply asleep.
Dr. Coccia sat back and thought for a moment. He found hypnotizing especially effective with young people, because their minds were so impressionable. Coccia liked to give every hypnotizing session a flair, and thus proceeded oddly.
"Every time you feel confronted…" He began. Ron's head nodded in response. "Every time you feel confronted, you will undergo a sudden and urgent need for…" Dr. Coccia looked about the room. All he saw were his thick psyche books, his equally thick leather briefcase, and the Mother's Day Card he was planning to send Mrs. Coccia. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it: A box of Fruit Loops. Sometimes, when the doctor was rushed in the morning and was forced to eat on the job, he brought along his favorite American cereal, Fruit Loops. Dr. Coccia grinned. "A sudden and urgent need for Fruit Loops. This sudden and urgent need will only be suppressed when you…"
End Flashback
By: TheRowlingPierceWriter
Disclaimer:
Fluffy like a bunny
Ron and Hermione honey
It all belongs to JK
So don't kick my booty!
"Hermione?" Ron leaned tentatively over his friends' shoulder, anticipating a response. The girl continued to read an aged, tattered volume entitled The Witching Revolution: What We Were Doing While Muggles Built Their Train Tracks. She showed no sign of hearing Ron at all. Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Hermione," he said again. This time the girl in question reacted. She turned to Harry, who sat innocently on her left, and spoke:
"Harry, did you know that in the nineteenth century, some advanced wizards were already experimenting with undetectable torture spells?" Her tone cut through Ron like a knife, and he presently sat down again, abandoning his mother-like perch above Hermione's shoulder. Harry, who has been apprised of the ill feeling between his two best friends, said nothing. He didn't want to fuel their spat any more than it already was. Hermione understood, and said naught more to her black-haired companion. Instead, she inflexibly read her book while Ron fumed a chair away, breaking up his brussel sprouts into tiny little pieces. Harry ate blandly, too aware of the moot point in their relationship.
Flashback
"I need to talk to you." Ron offered to Hermione. She was scrambling through her bookbag, hunting for her Potions essay. She discerned Ron impatiently, papers in her hands and quills tucked neatly behind both of her ears. Ron hesitated. "The thing is, Hermione…" he began. She nodded, but did not respond, her hands still fumbling with the far corners of her bookbag for her essay. "Wow, I mean, Herm, it's just that…" Ron trailed off again. They were walking down a near-deserted Charms corridor, and Ron cut her short, halting them together. "This is really hard to say." Ron stuttered. Hermione was growing more disquieted by the minute. She dropped a Transfiguration textbook to the floor and shoved a lock of bushy hair out of her eyes. Ron gulped.
In the next moment, several things happened at once. Ron started with, "I want to tell you that-", and was interrupted instantaneously by Hermione's tired, "Get off it, Ron, why are you acting so-", upon which time Ron forged ahead, "that I like you." Hermione froze. Together, everything she held in her arms-a collapsible cauldron, her wand, and two jars of Sneekley's Believe-It-Or-Not Brew Thinner, exploded to the floor. Hermione threw her hands above her head in what Ron hoped would become an embrace. It did not.
"RON! Ron, you stupid prat, how COULD you? You have some nerve, Ronald Weasley!" She screamed, eyes filling up with tears of rage and triste. Ron, poleaxed, stared helplessly on. Hermione continued to rant. "D'you know what you've done-oh! Oh!" She left her school things lying haphazardly across the hall and dashed away from Ron.
End Flashback
Hermione sat blandly on her bed, contemplating the many ways to make herself invisible before having to face Ron again. There was running away…but no; Hermione hadn't taken the final exams yet. That would be a waste of a whole year. She could always give herself magical plastic surgery and pretend to be an exchange student from Haiti, or…
"Hermione, have you got any silver eye shadow?" Lavender's bubbly voice shattered Hermione's complex thoughts. She looked up at Lavender, who stood at the foot of Hermione's bed.
"No." She replied, distracted. Vaguely she wondered why Lavender would ask Hermione for such a frivolous, girly item when she knew full well that Hermione carried nothing of the sort.
"All right, then." Lavender began to turn around, but stopped short of herself and fixed Hermione with a piercing gaze. "What's with you lately?" She bluntly asked.
"Nothing." Hermione said, sullenly and with more force than she had intended. Lavender's mascared eyes widened with surprise.
"Geez." She remarked.
Hermione lay back on her bed moodily and closed her curtains. She didn't really want to think of Ron, and yet there was no way of getting around it. Hermione was mad at him, and he didn't know why, and the fact that he didn't know why ("Prat that he is," Hermione mumbled under her breath) caused Hermione to get even madder. Five years! She thought. Five years, and now, NOW, he gets the idea! Hermione, frazzled, closed her eyes and willed for sleep to come.
Ron approached Harry with caution. Ron did not wish for Harry to become involved in his fray with Hermione, although Ron needed his advice. "Harry?" He called out provisionally. He was rewarded by the sight of a messy, dark-haired head emerging from the abyss of deep armchairs.
"What is it?" Harry said, walking toward Ron with a weary expression.
"I need your help." Ron explained guiltily. He was all too aware of the stony gaze Hermione was pretending not to give him a few couches away.
"All right." Harry agreed, gamely. Ron smiled. In a lower tone, he said to Harry:
"Why is Hermione mad at me?"
Hearing this, Harry threw up his hands in despair. He scrambled for words to describe his anger, and settled on, "You really ARE a stupid prat!"
Ron experienced a very strong feeling of dejä vous. He also experienced a weaker feeling of anger, because he did not believe Harry had reason to be disappointed, or worse, mad at him. He also experienced an even weaker feeling of embarrassment: at the sound of Harry's chastising tone, every head in the Gryffindor Common Room had turned, and was now watching him intently. Stronger than all of these feelings, however, was a sudden and urgent craving for Fruit Loops. Ron pushed aside the Fruit Loop hankering and, though he did not realize it at the time, inadvertently banished his humility as well. He addressed Harry. "What d'you mean?" He demanded.
Harry had gone very red in the face. Ginny was running toward Harry, grabbing him by the arm and trying to drag him away from Ron, albeit to no avail. Harry stared rigidly at Ron. "I mean," he said, voice shaking with animosity, "that you are the most daft, most slow, most inexplicably dumb person I have ever-"
At this point, Neville had grabbed onto Harry as well, and, working as a team, Ginny and Neville managed to pull him backward. Harry relented and Ron seized the moment to make a cowardly escape from the Common Room.
~Ron's POV~
This is my mental list of all the things I wish I had at the current moment-
An understanding of why Hermione and Harry are mad at me
An understanding of why I like Hermione
An understanding of why God would make me like Hermione-I mean, hello God, this is HERMIONE, remember?
Fruit Loops?!?!
Flashback
"Now, Ron, I understand that you have come to me seeking to be relieved from… what is it that you suffer from again?" The psychiatrist asked. Ron shifted uneasily.
"I have trouble with confrontations." He said finally, his ears turning an excellent shade of pink.
"Ah, I understand." The psychiatrist was about fifty years old, balding, and psychiatrist-resplendent in a white lab coat. He spoke quietly, analyzing Ron. Ron, never comfortable under a scrutinizing gaze, kept glancing from side to side. "I believe I can help you." The psychiatrist concluded, smiling a thin-lipped smile. Ron breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are you going to do?" Ron inquired.
"I will hypnotize you. I promise that your fear of-how did you put it?-confrontation, will wane when I am through." Ron shivered. He was well accustomed to magic, but hypnotizing? "I see that you are uncomfortable. Do not be." The psychiatrist, named Dr. Carl Coccia, read Ron's mind. Dr. Coccia then leaned over the ultramahogany desk separating Ron and himself and spoke quietly into Ron's ear.
"I am going to put you into hypnotic slumber. When I do so, you will not be able to consciously hear or comprehend what I am saying. When I bring you back from the slumber, you will have the power to forever cure your confrontation problems." Ron nodded dolefully. The doctor sat down in his seat and stared Ron levelly in the eyes. "Relax." He said. "Take deep breaths. Don't think of anything except your breathing. Yes, good." Ron obeyed, his eyelids beginning to droop. "When I count to three, you will fall asleep. Still concentrating on your breathing? All right. One," Ron's ears were roaring. "Two," Ron stooped. "Three." Ron was deeply asleep.
Dr. Coccia sat back and thought for a moment. He found hypnotizing especially effective with young people, because their minds were so impressionable. Coccia liked to give every hypnotizing session a flair, and thus proceeded oddly.
"Every time you feel confronted…" He began. Ron's head nodded in response. "Every time you feel confronted, you will undergo a sudden and urgent need for…" Dr. Coccia looked about the room. All he saw were his thick psyche books, his equally thick leather briefcase, and the Mother's Day Card he was planning to send Mrs. Coccia. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it: A box of Fruit Loops. Sometimes, when the doctor was rushed in the morning and was forced to eat on the job, he brought along his favorite American cereal, Fruit Loops. Dr. Coccia grinned. "A sudden and urgent need for Fruit Loops. This sudden and urgent need will only be suppressed when you…"
End Flashback